


Generator Knight

by Bambeptin



Category: Generator Rex
Genre: Gen, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 02:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7462734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bambeptin/pseuds/Bambeptin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago, a massive explosion released microscopic machines called nanites which infected every living thing on Earth. Perfectly harmless—until they activate and mutate their host into a monster known as an E.V.O. Any time, any place, the nearest plant, pet, or person can violently go berserk and wreak destruction. </p><p>Fortunately, under the "careful" management of Rex, Providence has the one and only cure: an amnesiac E.V.O. named Knight. </p><p>
  <i> State-of-the-art weapon. Atypical human being.</i>
</p><p>[Roleswap: Rex to Knight, Six to Holiday]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Obligations, Obligations (1/2)

**Author's Note:**

> long story short: I decided to discontinue Generator Remix and split apart the individual fics because the collection format wasn't working
> 
> I actually have a ton of unfinished genknight chapters, including dark passage, lockdown, plague, and the day that everything changed, but I am lazy. also I've spoiled a fairly large plot point on my Tumblr SO just ignore the ketchup until it appears

Sneaking out of headquarters was easy.

 _Strangely_ easy. It was as if all the agents were looking away, or blocking Holiday's or Six's view to him. It wasn't as if he stuck out like a sore thumb, white colour palette and all, but a glorified spacesuit was at least noticeable. The boots clunked on the tiles, the joints sometimes rustled, and sometimes Rex let out a panic yelp if he accidentally bumped into someone.

Even if he could be outside _normally_ (hah!), and everyone didn't automatically recognize _him_ (double hah!), heads would turn at his mere appearance. Tawny brown skin with patches of unnaturally pale white, vitiligo was not something he'd show off indiscriminately if he wanted to be stealthy.

So when he stood in a forest next to a skatepark and a basketball court, miles away from Providence, he was expecting someone to jump out and send him straight back to HQ.

Nothing.

Rex grinned. _Finally_.

There were some people (just kids, like he should be, not agents or scientists or E.V.O.s) around the vending machines near a building and he could feel excitement bubbling up inside him. Normally nobody was at the skatepark, and this was usually as far as he ran before he's caught.

"Hey!" he waved, and all of them turned with varying expressions of astonishment on their faces, "Let me try something…"

He strolled up to the vending machine, tapped some buttons on his gauntlet, and raised it right above the display.

Cans rolled out of the opening.

"That's pretty cool, man," one of the skaters, with an orange vest and a green t-shirt, said, "Pretty cool for a robot _freak_."

The four skaters waltzed off, cans in tow.

_Well._

_For the first new interaction I've had in months, that could have gone better._

"Don't listen to those guys, they're jerks," another kid around his age comes up to him, hand outstretched, "I'm Noah."

"Rex," he pays special attention to not immediately crush Noah's hand in his grip when he meets it.

"So. Since soda's a bust," Noah tapped the vending machine, eliciting empty rattles, "Wanna play basketball?"

* * *

"You're holding it like a dodgeball."

"It's basketball! I've seen the ani - _real life games_ , it can't be _that_ difficult."

The ball's whipped towards the basketball net at a frightening speed, spinning and cutting through the air like butter, until it _hits_.

The hoop bends, buckles, and snaps off completely.

"That's," Noah's at a loss for words, and he points numbly towards the now net-less basketball net, "That's new."

"Oh. Uh. Providence probably has that covered?" Rex's smile is anxious; this wasn't exactly the _best_ first impression, "We can play with the other net on the other side of the court!"

The rest of the net flops over and the clatters echo across the empty basketball park.

"Let's not chance that."

* * *

"I just want to be normal. Like you!" Rex motions towards Noah's body, and he catches a glimmer of doubt before Noah's smiling and listening intently again, "You're the epitome of a normal guy."

"And you're not because….?"

Rex gives him an exasperated look, and pats his exosuit. "I've got to keep this on because I'm absolutely 100% nanite-free. Two years ago, they ran some tests on possible ways of curing things, and bleaching was one of the proposed methods."

"And let me guess," Noah tilts his head, unperturbed by the strangeness of his explanation, "You were the volunteer, and that's why you're patchy."

"Yup, they needed a human to test on after animals and plants made it _relatively_ okay, and there I was — eleven years old, eager to help. It went — well. Kinda. Now I _run_ ," he put little air-quotes around run to emphasize his point, "Providence."

"As in, world E.V.O. defence organization Providence? Huge recruitment billboard right outside my school Providence?"

"One and only. Sorry about the billboard thing, I can't control that," he sighed, "I don't really _control_ anything. I'm just a figurehead."

"So you're a pawn. A," a corner of Noah's mouth quirks upwards while his eyes dart up and down Rex's exosuit, "White Pawn?"

"I can't _believe_ you made me listen to that with my own two ears," even though Noah's voice is muffled through the suit, even though he can't feel the concrete under his skin or the warmth of the sun, he feels like a normal kid.

"Rex, what are you _doing_? Who is that?"

Until reality hits him like a subway train.

Noah almost slips down the halfpipe as he whips his head around, but Rex just huffs and rolls his eyes. He could recognize that _perfect_ blend of worried, pissed, and exasperated from _anywhere_.

He could've _sworn_ he removed all the tracking devices from the suit.

"Just hanging out with Noah," Rex shrugs, "New friend? Doesn't appreciate interruptions?"

The click of combat boots against concrete.

"You _know_ her? She's got a great Darth Vader impression, um," even though the visor is foggy and the viewport tinted blue, Rex can see the faint sheen of sweat building on Noah. He forgot how intimidating Agent Holiday could be, "She's pointing her taser thing at me, _Rex_ —"

"That's just Holiday. She's like," Rex trailed off as he attempted to find the proper words. Ninja Nanny? Holiday could sneak up on people, but anime usually had katana or kunai wielding ninjas, not _taser_ ninjas, "my Chernobyl Caretaker."

"A gas mask isn't going to protect me from gamma ray radiation — _what_ has Six been teaching you?!"

"Stealth, subterfuge, the usual. _Relax_ , I've got science covered," he turned around to instill some assurance into his caretaker. That, or to lighten the mood so his new friend didn't die of a stress-induced heart attack, "The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Everything I needed to know."

Holiday's eyes narrowed, and Rex guessed that her mouth pursed — it was difficult to tell with a gas mask blocking the way, but he could recognize the way her cheeks would puff out _just so_ when news of Rex breaking out reached her. It was usually followed by a stern, yet motherly speech about making commitments for Providence.

Rex could tune her out. Noah probably couldn't. He didn't want his budding friendship to be ruined on the first day _again_.

Holiday stopped tapping her foot. The sounds of her breathing overrode the rustle of leaves, the drone of traffic in the distant city, even the mechanical whirring of his own exosuit.

 _Here we go_.

"Captain Calan's holding up Providence's resources to assemble a search team. Again. Six isn't appreciating that," Holiday's expression turned amused, "You should have seen the _look_ on Six's face when Calan said he couldn't deliver the E.V.O. carcass. And the look on Calan's face when one of Six's scalpels sped past his face and embedded itself into the monitor right behind him."

"And you're here to pick me up, _again_. I'm fine! I've been fine for the past, what, twenty times?" he could remember his 'training' clearly. Be unemotional. Be a figurehead. Do what the people _really_ running Providence _want_ you to do, it's your _obligation_ to help the war against E.V.O.s, "And I'd rather go outside and have fun than watch Calan get another scar."

He was a teen — alright, _pre-teen_ — and being the Providence Pawn didn't magically change that. He wanted a life outside of the _war_. He _needed_ a life outside of the war.

The experience of failing a test for the first time. Staying up all night to finish three projects at once. Cramming to frantically pass a test. Joking around with a study group while they definitely didn't study.

It was all replaced with a synthetic teacher and the expectation that he didn't want to switch jobs. Thirteen and already the leader of a world-spanning organization? What _luck_!

Holiday gave her best 'I understand, but I'm your mother figure and I know what's best for you' look. With the head tilt and all.

"Some of us have to make sacrifices, Rex."

"Some more than others, apparently."

The sun had almost slipped down the horizon, turning the vivid oranges lining the sky into blues and purples. It was odd seeing the infrequent flashes of airplane lights instead of the blanket of stars that were visible back at headquarters; the sky was muted, the sounds were muted, and he could feel his own anger slowly dying out.

Reinfection was always an option, but where would he go after that? His new home and family was Providence. Rafael, Violeta, Caesar, he could only remember them through the vague, spotty memories of his childhood and newspaper clippings. Brief glimmers of running down a hallway, of someone shouting his name beneath the sounds of machines, of people he _should_ be mourning but _couldn't_.

_Waking up and stumbling across a ruined landscape with a blood-red sky over him. Everything was wrong — last week that clothes store was still standing, yesterday he and his dad went to eat at that restaurant (or was it that pile of stone? The sign was split between them), and the previous month the kind old owner of the toy shop gave him something that wasn't splintered wood. Now there was rubble, plant life, and monsters._

_So many monsters._

_Green isn't the first colour that comes to mind when he thinks of an angel, but there one is. Fighting a nightmare with a katana. He thinks back to the anime he's watched while waiting for his family to finish their project, and wonders wildly if any of the DVDs made it. Acid almost hits him, almost hits both of them, but he can feel an arm looping around his waist and they were running._

Noah's the first to break the silence. "I should probably go now, shouldn't I," he states it like an obvious fact, something that he should have done much earlier. Rex would've liked it if Noah didn't see the extra baggage that came along with being his friend, but it wasn't as if he could turn back time.

He just hoped his one shot at feeling normal didn't slip away.

"You don't _have_ to, it's fine, everything's —" from the corner of his eye, Rex can see Holiday giving him the _nastiest_ glare he's ever witnessed, real or fictional, "Yeah, you should."

* * *

"You know, I made a new friend today," simple, succinct, under ten words. That meant there was an _okay_ chance Six would reply.

And yet, nothing.

Six presses a button and stands back, and Rex is lowered into the large scanner. There's a small window installed in case something went horribly wrong inside or outside but Rex doesn't want to look up; not at Six's stoic face, not at the other scientists staring at him and talking about him.

"His name's Noah. He's around my age, and likes basketball," Rex continues, even though he knows Six isn't listening to all of it; it feels good to vent, and somehow it feels even better when he's venting at a person and not an electronic journal, "I tried playing basketball and I ended up breaking the hoop."

"Turn down the strength setting next time. We're the ones paying for it."

"It was my first time playing!" Rex wants to throw his hands up in the air, but the scanner's too confined and he has to stay still, anyways, "I needed all the help I could get."

"Crush the ball next time and tell me how many points that nets you."

"Is that a pun?" Rex narrows his eyes and finally tilts his head up, and unless the stress finally got to him, he could see a hint of amusement on Six.

The scan line passed over his eyes and he blinked, and afterwards Six was back to his usual self. No answer.

A few taps on the screen later, and Six gives a thumbs-up. Or what Rex assumed was _suppose_ to be a thumbs up — Six lifted his arm up halfway, hesitated, flashed a thumb, and put his hand back down.

"You're still nanite-free," Six's sunglasses are pointed downwards at the screen, but Rex is pretty sure Six saw him roll his eyes, "Close your eyes or tint the visor."

"Dude, I know the procedure," Rex prefers closing his eyes; there's nothing new to see after the first time and tinting the visor is an extra step.

"Can't be too careful."

The buzz was unbearable the first time around, and uncomfortable the next few times — Rex has lost count how many times the exosuit needed to be cleaned of residual nanites. It's a normal part of his routine now, no more odd than random mutations in nanite-infected DNA or disliking milk.

Though his eyelids are closed, he can tell the lights are getting brighter and brighter. There's a tugging sensation across his entire body, but he tenses his muscles and wills the exosuit up.

The first few seconds are always the hardest.

It's been two years since the incident, and one year since he started regularly sneaking out, but he still expects the shouting and the chaos and the burn across his being and the knowledge that he's being _ripped apart_ —

The pulling lessens as fewer nanites remain on him.

The lights die down, and Rex opens his eyes as instructed. The door behind him automatically opens up, 'welcoming' him into a stark white room — maybe he could smuggle in furniture next time. _Bright orange_ , he thinks, and smiles at the thought of hiding bits of a table inside the food container and the look on Holiday's face when she'll notice there was inexplicably something new in his room, _Or bright blue. Maybe both._

"They're planning to repurpose the bleaching procedure soon."

"Um, alright," Rex didn't even take one step into his room before Six — _Six, of all people_ — started up a conversation. Six pushes his glasses upwards in a gesture Rex inwardly describes as 'totally anime'.

"Instead of irreparably damaging DNA, it's going to be removed along with the nanites."

It takes a moment for Rex to parse what he said, and a moment more for Rex to get over his shock. "What, like," he struggles to find a word and his mouth quirks up in a nervous, please-tell-me-you're-joking smile, "To _vaporise_ E.V.O.s?"

"We can't cure them. We can't contain a lot of them," his sunglasses blocked the way, but Rex felt like Six couldn't meet his disbelieving gaze, "We may as well kill. That's what the board said."

"What? But —" they weren't just nightmare horrors beamed from beyond the abyss, they were parents, siblings, _children_ , humans that wouldn't get to live the rest of their lives. Like him, "There are _people_ in there! Human beings!"

"Are we going to cage the whole world?"

Six's posture is stiff, and if his mouth wasn't moving to talk Rex could've sworn he was talking to a still image. Standing up, hands in pockets, completely neutral expression — classic Six.

He didn't look the slightest bit disturbed.

"I can't _believe_ you guys," anger's laced in every word, and his hands are balled up in fists — if he was out of the exosuit, his nails would've dug deep grooves into his skin.

"It's been three years, Rex. If they — _we_ don't find a breakthrough soon, the governments of the world are going to pull funding. They won't waste any more money on empty promises."

"Providence was founded to clean up this mess and we're just going to shove it all under the metaphorical bed. How long until I'm the last person on Earth and every else has been zapped?"

"While the efforts of Rhodes, Volkov, and Bouvier are _admirable_ , it isn't enough to push back against the growing E.V.O. threat," from the small window, Rex can see that the three scientists aren't present — probably working on their program up in the space station again.

He looks to the scientist in front of him.

"And _you've_ been such a _great_ help."

" _I'm_ in charge of the Petting Zoo. Nanites should be left to the people suited for the job," another question, another blunt answer.

"If by 'in charge of the Petting Zoo' you mean 'best E.V.O. wrestler in Providence' then yeah. Hit the nail right on the head."

Six's brows tilted downwards and his lips thinned. For once, Rex was glad Six wore the sunglasses all the time — he had a sneaking suspicion that Six's uncovered glare could literally kill. As in, actual knives would shoot out and strike him down.

He won't back down, though. "What? They aren't even betting on whether you'll win or lose, they're betting on how long the E.V.O.'ll last — Bobo's made a _fortune_."

"That robot's a bad influence," each word was forced out as Six focused on smoothing himself out to the detached air he had before. It was subtle, but Rex had enough boredom and time to look for tics — it was _something_ to do in that room other than watch the news.

There was nothing but bleakness on TV, anyways. _Diane Farrah, reporting that this city and that city has been lost despite Providence's best efforts_ — _Diane Farrah, here on site of the latest giant E.V.O. attack_ — _there's a record number of Class 1 E.V.O.s appearing this week_ _— yesterday's strangely biomechanical E.V.O. —_ _Sentient E.V.O. hate groups are growing in numbers, especially in Hong Kong_ — _Ships are disappearing in the Pacific, rumoured to be sea monster E.V.O.s._

"He's the only influence I _have_ , Six," other than various anime characters, but Rex had a sneaking suspicion they didn't count.

"You also don't contact anyone on comms. Make this easier on all of us and stop sneaking out, alright?"

"Pssh. Alright."

* * *

"I can't believe you sneaked out! Again! Especially after," Noah cupped his mouth with his hand and breathed loudly, " _That._ "

"Holiday? I'm use to it. It's Six you have to look out for," Rex grins as Noah leans forward, eager to learn about the other's life, "Did you know he keeps a knife in his jacket pocket at all time?"

"What?"

"Yeah, I was watching the surveillance cams and he just," he made the motion of grabbing something near his waist and pulling a sheathe off, "Took out this dagger, from the inside of his jacket. Then he stared at it for a few minutes when nobody was looking."

"I don't know what's creepier," Noah said, a devious smile making its way onto his face, "The knife, or the fact that you were watching the surveillance feed."

"Well, I've gotta do _something_ to keep myself entertained."

" _Gross._ "

"Not like that!"

Rex lightly punches him on the shoulder — strength turned _way_ down. He's learned his lesson from the first time he tried to do that. With Calan. Hutton had to fill in after Calan was put into the hospital ward and Rex had to get another lesson on suit safety.

They sit in silence, enjoying the peaceful scene. There wasn't anyone else in the skatepark that they could see or hear — just the ambient noises of nature and the city blended together.

Noah took another sip from his soda, and Rex stuck another open soda can into what was lovingly referred to as the 'food compartment' on his arm to get the nanites removed. The feeding tube was slightly awkward, but Noah hadn't said anything _yet_ , so he supposed it was okay.

"We just have juice, milk, and water in Providence," Rex says between sips. Some of the citrus soda spilled over his chin and he resisted the urge to bring up his arm to wipe it — what good would that do? He had nanites and a faceplate in between his hand and his face. Noah nods and motions for him to continue, "Going outside, experiencing unhealthy drinks, what a miracle."

"An act of divine providence, even?"

" _Noah!_ "

Both of them laugh, and continue enjoying the tranquil moment. Despite the clutter, the graffiti, the horns blaring in the distant, this was somehow more homely than the organized rooms of Providence headquarters.

"Milk doesn't sound half bad," Noah speaks up, seemingly after intense thought.

"Okay. Juice, I can get. Water, I can respect," Rex copies Holiday's concerned, motherly expression, "But milk? Out of all of them, milk?"

"What? It tastes good!"

"Unbelievable. It wasn't even originally on the menu! Six was the one petitioning to add milk, and he's lactose intolerant!"

That wasn't an exaggeration — the one health risk in Six's sparse file (it didn't even have his birthday on it, how else was Rex going to birthday prank him?) was that he was lactose intolerant. That was it. Complete confusion on Rex, and now complete confusion on Noah — they didn't serve lactose intolerant milk at the cafeteria yet.

"What if you mixed the milk and juice together? Like, with orange juice? Or lemonade? Would that make it taste better?"

"Oh my god."

"I think yes."

"Remind me to take you to Providence so I can prove you _wrong_."

He can feel his worries, his stress, melt away as they're cracking up. They're on top of the world (or at least the skatepark) and it feels as though nothing's wrong — the clouds are distant, the sun's shining, and someone's fixed the basketball hoop already.

Noah tips the last of his soda into his mouth, and wipes it with his sleeve.

"I'll go do the government fund thing to the vending machine, I got this," Rex hauls himself up, cutting off the flow of soda into the tube, and stretches a bit before heading off.

"Sure," a buzz comes from Noah's pocket, and his gaze flits downwards as he checks the notification. There's rapid movement in Rex's peripheral vision, and Noah's hand slapped onto his shoulderpad, "Wait! I wouldn't want to, uh, take money away from the war on E.V.O.s, right? Besides, I have to leave now. I got a message from my mom, _really_ strict about curfew."

"It's like, 6 o'clock."

"You don't know the shady Bellwood types!"

 _He's nervous_ , fidgeting with his fingers, can't meet Rex's gaze, sweating much more than a small six feet sprint would suggest, _Why's he nervous?_

_C'mon Rex, he's your new friend! You can't go around demanding that people tell every aspect of their lives._

"Alright? I'll just," Rex attempts to hide his suspicion, so he awkwardly smiles and walks back to his previous location, "Sit back down, then, and wait for a jet to pick me up."

Rex boosts up the volume receptors in his helmet (he couldn't resist, it was morally questionable but he _had to know_ ), wincing at the onslaught of sound. Maybe the car horns honking weren't as quiet as he thought.

Steps. Paper shuffling. Someone who definitely _wasn't_ Noah, but somewhat familiar, mumbling. Too low for Holiday. Too gruff for Six. Not western enough for Calan. Faster footsteps moving away.

Slower, heavier footsteps moving towards him.

"So. You're the hotshot who's nanite-free, huh?"

Rex whirled around; the blond man in front of him looked innocent enough, other than the fact he looked like he came straight out of a gym instruction video — muscular, tall, a white tank top with black combat pants.

His expression would have fit well with Six's expression — indifferent, but somehow slightly angry at the same time.

"Yeah," Rex nods, and looks around for Noah; he's out of his sight, and Rex hopes he wasn't tied up in the back of a van somewhere, "That's me."

"I've heard a _lot_ about you."

"I'm sure you have. Providence is a _pretty_ big organization, after all. We're looking to expand to the moon later on, gotta keep an eye on those aliens," if he kept joking, he wouldn't remember the fear — there was something about the man in front of him that screamed _danger_ , just like Six when fighting.

_Less than a minute into meeting someone and they're already threatening you?_

Rex stood his ground, turning up the strength to his suit; a mixture of his own pride, the knowledge of his exosuit's capability, and the halfpipe beginning right behind him keeping him there. He could probably make a run for it if he broke the other's arm in a surprise attack.

"And if you know me, you know my status as the leader of Providence! I've got a lot of people watching my back, like, my," Rex's eyes light up and he snaps his fingers, "Assassin Au Pair! That's the phrase I'm looking for!"

There a small, confused pause before he reverts back to his irritated air. "Noted."

"Alright! I'm Rex Salazar! Head of Providence, no nanites, but you already know that," Rex shrugs and plans his trajectory — he'll stand out in the forest, but in Bellwood _someone's_ bound to notice a scuffle, "What's your name?"

"Knight."

"No first name? Or last name, if that's your nickname?"

"Only one I remember. It's _mine_ ," the m — _Knight_ says, with the strong sense of control only seen in people defending their only possession. A hazy look of uncertainty passes his face —

Rex runs.

His boots are boosting every step, sending him sprinting in speeds even unknown by him —

And now he's tripping at speeds now known by him —

 _I couldn't have tripped, I'm still on concrete, I'm not_ that _bad,_ he thinks as scratches appear on his faceplate as he slides forwards; no cracks yet, thankfully, but enough for warning signs to appear. There's a pull on his legs and he finds he can't open them, like they're bound together. He's sliding _backwards_ now, strangely.

He looks to his feet.

_Oh._

There's grey rope tied around it, with a huge mechanical claw on one end. It's taut, and despite Rex kicking, they don't budge.

_Where'd he hide that?_

And on the other end of the rope was a boxy mechanical fist that melded with Knight's skin. There was an opening on the top of one with electricity crackling around it.

" _Thrill_ me."

His expression was _sadistic_ , mouth twisted into a wide, smug grin and eyes watching Rex as if he was a predator watching his prey. Scratch that, not just _watching_ , but _playing_ with their prey before their teeth would snap down and swallow the prey whole.

"Out of all the one-liners, 'thrill me'?! I could _probably_ come up with something better in way less time. At least _open up_ with 'thrill me'!"

The content look never slipped off his face and he started whistling while reeling Rex in. Glass against concrete, metal against metal, screeching noises filled the air but he wouldn't. Stop. _Whistling_.

One of the boxy mechanical fists — _smack hands? Better than calling them 'boxy mechanical fists' all day_ — shot out a projectile with a cable fastened, lodged itself onto Rex's exosuit. The projectile didn't pierce it, but the blunt force would probably leave a bruise that he would have to take care of _himself_ in his room, and his confusion and shock slowly morphed into rage as he realized —

_Paperwork! Six and Holiday nagging! More suit safety training! Nobody's going to let me out of headquarters for months!_

He flips himself over and aims his gauntlet towards Knight, laser charging up —

Electricity courses through his suit and Rex _screams_.

His suit's power is falling, he can hear the whistling stop, only to be replaced by jovial _laughter_ , there's screaming and he recognizes one voice as his own but someone _else,_ faint, calling his name —

"I'm going to _enjoy_ smashing your faceplate in."


	2. Obligations, Obligations (2/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone started off the same as canon (Six was a mercenary being trained by One, Rebecca Holiday was getting her PHDs, Rex was at the Nanite Research Facility, and Knight was...you know, whatever he was doing), but a few events changed them early on (Six joined Providence a little too early, Holiday's hasn't been revealed, Rex never got injured so he never got the first nanite batch + he volunteered to be bleached out of a sense of duty to fix what his family did, and Knight's hasn't been revealed but has been hinted at)
> 
> I also fixed a plot hole where...uh...Six never actually told Knight his name. also changed Knight's tron line colours because white lines in Providence would not be noticeable, at all,

Consciousness crashes down on him with the force of a feral E.V.O.; quick, brutal, headache-inducing. Rex regrets lowering the tint on the visor to see the sky better — the bright walls and lights pierce his skull and blur his surroundings. A twitch in his index finger later, the room turns from a white, shaky blob to something _bearable_ to look at.

He's lying down on a bed in a corner of the lab. Not that it helped much, his suit had enough cushioning by itself.

The exosuit's power readings are low, but nothing too dire. Nanite shielding integrity was still at 100%. All systems functional. The digital clock being turned off to conserve energy was a bit of a bummer; it was difficult to tell the time deep in the bowels of headquarters.

Dazed, he stares at the ceiling of the lab. He was just at the skatepark, wasn't he? With Noah. Who left, and he was waiting when someone walked up to him —

The pistons react to his will and he snaps up, eyes wide and hands shaking.

_Knight._

His heart's hammering against his chest, there's beads of sweat rolling down his face. His back's lit up with pain from the sudden movement, but all he can think about is the laughter and the screaming and growing prickle of electricity dancing across him —

"Are you alright?"

Rex swallows, and breathes in deeply. His heart's beating in overdrive and his mouth feels dry. No, _absolutely_ not.

"What happened?" he doesn't want to admit he's scared, he doesn't want to think about the events that occurred yesterday (or a few hours ago? Two days ago? The temptation to flick open the digital clock just for a second is tangible) but curiosity gets the better of him.

"Holiday interrupted a poor assassination attempt," Six is organizing something in a drawer, facing away from Rex — taking out a few bottles, examining them, and putting them back down. There's nobody else in the lab but them, and the Petting Zoo's dark. Nighttime or a power failure. Rex decided it was the former.

"I probably could've guessed," Rex replies, trying to keep his voice from wavering too much. It's not the answer he's looking for, and he doesn't like the implication that he's too weak, but it's _technically_ correct, "The specifics?"

"She wants to talk to you first."

Rex huffs. Typical. Maybe he should assign mandatory reports to her.

"Here," Six throws something towards him, and Rex catches it without really thinking, "Antibiotic ointment and some dressings. Just follow the instructions. You should probably lie back down now."

 _Does cream really need instructions?_ Rex keeps the thought to himself, instead focusing on the sting on his back and the ache on his shoulder as he lowered himself; he trusted Six to tell him if he had any major injuries, so he supposed he got off easy.

"Did they catch Knight?"

The change in the mood was swift as Six jerked upwards and tensed. One of the bottles fell from his grip as his hand moves towards one side of his jacket, but he stops himself.

"...Knight?"

It's the side of his jacket with the dagger.

"Yeah, the person who, you know, tried to _kill_ me. Didn't Holiday mention him?"

"She wasn't in the mood to talk," Six's sunglasses are pointed at him, scrutinizing him. His hand clenches and he wrests it away to shove it in his pants pocket, "Didn't catch his name before she knocked him unconscious. Are you sure?"

"I mean, I don't know if it's his first, last, or nickname," Rex shrugged and made note of Six's jilted movements — this was the most emotion he's seen on Six in months, "But that's what he introduced himself as."

Hesitation. A rarity from Six; he usually moved with a purpose, as if he was reading lines from a script and playing his part on a stage.

"He," Six starts, and pauses as if looking for a direction, "Probably needs medical attention, right?"

Rex turns his head to face Six and stares. "Uh, sure?" that certainly wasn't a question he was expecting from him, "Though he's probably got E.V.O. super-healing or whatever. Remember the one time with the frog?"

"The one that woke up mid-dissection and kicked Dr. Fell in the face. Yes," his voice sounded hollow as he wandered around the lab, picking up miscellaneous items — a bottle of painkillers, some white bandages, more antibiotic ointment. Notably, one item was a glass of milk that another scientist had probably forgotten about, held firmly in his right grip while his left arm held everything else.

"Oh! Speaking of him, Knight was biomechanical!" there's only been one other biomechanical E.V.O., and that one disappeared in thin air before any agents could stop its rampage, "Dr. Fell would have a…field...day…"

They've dissected human-like, sentient E.V.O.s before ( _He couldn't watch. He couldn't even read the report. Holiday was similarly shaken up, and Six was a bit snappier that week — his higher-ups, the people truly running Providence, repeated to him that they were dead, they were dead when Providence found them, but Rex heard them shouting for help and sometimes he still heard them late at night_ ) but Knight looked _strikingly_ like a human when he didn't have metal fists out.

Six started walking out faster. Rex pushes himself up to follow, but Six abruptly stopped and turned to him. "Stay here. You need some rest."

_Oh. I'm not going anywhere._

* * *

The laser turns on, and it cuts a circle in the glass like a hot knife through butter. He's careful to pull the glass away towards the lab, as opposed to chucking it outside to the Petting Zoo — Six would notice. Six would always notice. From his vantage point, he can see Six stride towards the cages right underneath the observatory; it was eerily quiet, no crocodile E.V.O.s growling or bird E.V.O.s squawking.

It works to Rex's advantage. His sound receptors are turned up, until he can clearly hear Six's steps through the undergrowth and the clattering of plastic against plastic.

The footsteps stop, and he's standing right before a medium-sized cage moved away from the rest. Six kneels down to look inside.

A sharp exhale.

That was definitely Knight's cage.

"Knight —" it seems like the words are caught in Six's throat, and he instead thrusts out the glass of milk, "Here."

A hand reaches out from the bars and hovers over the glass, and Rex can imagine Knight's face reflecting his own confusion.

"This isn't drugged, right?"

"No."

"Nanites'll probably break them down anyways. It's useless."

"I know."

Shuffling inside the cage before an empty glass is presented. _How fast can a guy drink milk?_

Six grabs the glass, his gaze still fixated on what Rex assumed was Knight.

"So, I assume you're Dr. Fell, then?"

The glass shattered in Six's hands — _did he just crush it? What were they_ made _of?_ — and he's standing up all of a sudden, pose rigid. It doesn't even look like he's noticed the blood on his hand, the scars on his fingers, the glass shards embedded in his palm — he's looking down at the cage, completely absorbed in his own thoughts.

Rex was glad Knight was apparently as jumpy as he was — Knight's yell of surprise masked his own gasp.

He's also glad that he was winded, because in one fluid motion Six brandishes the dagger right at the cage, unsheathed and gleaming.

"It's _Six,_ " he hisses through gritted teeth and thrusts the blade between the bars.

There's movement in the cage that Rex assumes is Knight frantically pushing himself backwards.

"Do you remember this?"

Unspoken; _do you remember me?_

There's a gap between Six's question, asked with an unwavering voice despite the knife shaking in his hands, and Knight's answer. Rex didn't blame him; that was unexpected, even for the enigmatic Six.

"That's —" Knight swallows thickly, "That's a tantō, right?"

"With the bushido symbol of loyalty engraved on the blade," the tantō's lowered, but he's still shaking, "Whether for good or ill, our fates will follow the same path."

"Our?"

"You gave this to me," Six's indifferent expression is strained, bordering on a scowl or a hysterical smile, "Right before you _left_. It's been _four years_ , Knight, where the _hell_ have you been?!"

The last few words were roared out, and a flock of bird-bat things shoot out from a tree, screeching. The audio receptors similarly screeched and his ears rang as they approached overload, more and more noises being added on as the residents of the Petting Zoo stirred.

"We're suppose to be _partners_ ," it's quiet, with raw emotion leaking from the cracks; Rex is vaguely surprised he can even hear it at all, mixed in with the cacophony of E.V.O.s and the indistinct shouting of newly awoken agents.

A rhinoceros E.V.O. barrels into the clearing, ripping apart the cage, and whatever answer was planned falls silent.

* * *

The blood drew them there.

Six was shouting for him to move, but Knight's staring down a huge horn inches away from his chest — _A bit more and it would have pierced me_ , he thinks, as the horn's wiggled backwards and out of the cage, _What an unsatisfactory way to die._

He looks around, at the artificial nature enclosed by the white walls in a false sense of order.

 _What an unsatisfactory_ place _to die._

It's Six that pulls him out of his stupor, along with pulling him out of his cage — the dirt's soft beneath his shoes and the air's _fresher_ not being caged in. High above, the windows to Providence's hallways lit up, bright white LEDs interspaced with the red flashes from alarms.

It was chaos and he hated it.

"We have to move. More are coming," Six's stoic expression returned to his face, no sign of his weakness from before. Knight nods and follows along, at a loss on what else to do. Six's steps are light and quick, contrasting against his own lumbering, heavy steps —

_Six could've just abandoned me. He's fine on his own._

"I'm unsure of how the rhino E.V.O. breached the wall between the cages and the Zoo proper, but," Six ducks under a branch that hits Knight square in the face; he doesn't mind, small scratches healed quickly, "We're heading in the opposite direction. There should be an exit in front of us."

Whatever his _trick_ was, luring him in with the promise of his past, forgotten self, he was sticking to it. Knight had to give it to him, he was determined.

 _Or maybe_ , a part of him whispers, _He's telling the truth._

Knight ignores it. He always does.

He's vaguely aware of his own steps cracking twigs, his own heavy breathing, all the noise originating from _him_.

He's more focused on the emu-like creature that's jumped out from the bushes and leapt, beak open, at Six's face, and how Six wasn't fast enough because he was _still holding on_ —

Six's hand holding his fell limp. Knight jerked forwards in an attempt to grab him, but him and the emu E.V.O. rolled a few feet away.

"Let him go!" he spat out the words, enraged, and he sprung upwards, hand outstretched. He couldn't build his mechanical claws, and he wasn't sure why he was putting himself in the path of danger for someone he just met (he did give him milk though. Did he know his favourite food? Was it the truth? _He didn't want to stay here_ ) but it felt right.

His hand met the feathers of the bird, pushing it off of Six somewhat. What was he _doing_? He prided himself in having plans. This was not a good plan.

There was a strange sensation in his left hand, and he watched, bewildered, as gold lines travelled from his palm up to his elbow and down onto the E.V.O..

Gold light bloomed from where his hand met feathers, and he squinted — Six didn't have a problem with his sunglasses. _Maybe he could borrow them later._

The monstrous features melted, jagged features turning soft and eyes disappearing until two were left. The E.V.O. became smaller, and smaller, and the legs were becoming _really_ short, until a normal (if spooked) chicken remained in its place.

"Did I...?" Knight checked his left arm, if there were any features or eyes or extra E.V.O. bits that happened to crawl up. Nothing. Not even the gold lines. The realization hit him a second later — somehow, he _cured_ it.

 _They_  would make him cure _more_. Even the sentient, strong ones. _Especially_ the sentient, strong ones.

Six's mouth was agape.

Half of his face is smeared with crimson — Knight doesn't waste a second and slaps his hand on his forehead to try and staunch the flow. Six is leaning onto him, dazed; he's grasping at his back for something that isn't there, mumbling incoherently and wobbling.

"It's - it's a head injury," Six lurches forwards, and Knight loops around his waist to hold him up, "The cut bleeds a lot, but I don't have a concussion. It's probably fine."

Knight's other hand remains on his forehead anyway.

"How do you deal with it?" Knight's the one dragging Six along now, wishing that the damned collar would be removed so he could protect him better — the claws were bulky enough to act as a shield and a makeshift stretcher. Or he could build the boots and rocket off. Or rappel upwards using the cords on his shoulder build. Or pepper the non-sentient E.V.O.s with gatling gunfire — instead he was stuck with sparse options, stuck in unknown territory with someone who claimed to know him from before, stuck in his weak, _weak_ , body.

"With what?"

"Being so fragile," it's frankly disgusting, seeing _filth_ running the world when some were E.V.O. and _superior_ , "I don't know how you folk handle being on the brink of death all the time."

_Being weak. Being controlled. Being caged up like a wild animal._

"You've called me a lot of things," there he was, reminiscing on times Knight would never remember. He wished Six would stop doing that, it made his chest feel odd, "Never fragile, though."

"Still doesn't answer my question," Knight states a bit more light-heartedly, and hobbles away from the sound of gunfire and roaring. He didn't pay attention to his surroundings when he was ferried in and now he was paying for the mistake — he couldn't tell where any of the exits were, or where the cages were located, or the direction of the E.V.O. enclosure.

He decides being close to the wall is the next best thing, and places Six down. Six's expression doesn't change, but somehow it's apparent to Knight that he's lost in thought — or his memories. The blood's almost dry on his face and clothes, and it doesn't look like any more was spewing out, so Knight considered it a job well done.

"You've never called me fragile because you've never beaten me in a fight."

"I find that _somewhat_ hard to believe," Knight's focus is drawn towards the other's features. Certainly not as muscular as he was, but nothing to scoff at. Lithe but well-defined, but the image was ruined somewhat by the various scrapes on his skin and clothes.

The gunfire was dying down, and the roars became more and more infrequent. Either the Providence grunts were successful in pushing the E.V.O.s back or the E.V.O.s were content in their share of food.

Knight hoped it was the former.

"Battle's almost over," Six said, mirroring Knight's thoughts, "You should probably leave."

"Don't you _work_ for Providence?" Knight isn't about to give up a shot at freedom, but he's curious enough to ask.

"Trained as a mercenary. Old habits," there's a hint of a smile on Six's face, before it turns solemn, "I'll catch up later. Go."

Knight turned around, about to run, before realizing he had no idea where to go.

"Any tips?"

"Maintenance tunnel to the left. Don't remember the code. You'll figure something out."

* * *

Rex moped in his room. Since the alarm started ringing, he was ordered to remain in his room — no more spying, although things started to get a bit _intense_ at the end.

He never knew Six was capable of complex emotions like that!

A thought made him grin.

Everyone that normally worked at the lab was currently working in the Petting Zoo, cleaning up the carcasses and debris from the stampede.

Which left the office exit unguarded.

Meaning Rex could sneak out without being reprimanded.

He couldn't use the main hallways, agents were given instructions to report any sightings of him to Holiday and they couldn't just _refuse_ orders. The skatepark incident was still fresh in their minds, and they couldn't allow him to leave out of pity anymore; Providence was control, control was security.

Right outside of the lab, though, was a hidden door that led into the maintenance tunnels — claustrophobic, perhaps, but it was a small sacrifice for freedom.

Hopefully Noah would be waiting at the park. Rex owed him an apology for distrusting him; the curfew was _totally_ justified if Knight was any indication.

There's nobody in the hallway right outside of the lab, and Rex holds in a whoop of excitement before he dashes towards the entrance. The blueprints didn't lie; a combination of presses on the wall and it slid away, revealing the dark grey interior of Providence. Pipes travelled along the length of the walkway, with tiles that hid wires acting as walls. His boots clanged against the metal but there would be nobody to hear it — Rex double- and triple-checked the date, no maintenance was scheduled. The hallway's barely wide enough to fit Rex, and he wonders if the workers climb on the pipes to move around quicker; it would be a fun experiment, if he wasn't scared he'd fall on or crush an important pipe.

Now, if he remembered the blueprint correctly, the closest maintenance hatch that led to an exit was just a few turns away —

He bumps into something while turning left.

Rex looks upwards and backs up. That definitely wasn't a pipe.

Just his _luck_ that he'd run into Knight in the vast sprawl of the maintenance hallways.

"Aren't you suppose to be in a cage?"

"I could say the same thing to you."

They spend a few seconds in the same position, tense, staring at the other. Both of them don't know what to make of the situation — fight, or flee? The tension in the air was almost tangible as the two recalled their _first_ meeting. _Not that that could happen again,_ Rex smiles inwardly, _Unless he wants to be on the receiving end of a beatdown._

Knight moves first.

He's barrelling straight at Rex, and Rex couldn't feel any more confident — Knight was collared while his own exosuit was at full power, the hallway was narrow and Rex could get a good punch in, and _besides_ , any injury would be healed up by the other's nanites anyway. Holiday or Six couldn't get _too_ angry if he very temporarily broke Knight's nose.

He puts himself in a fighting stance, feet apart and gauntlets up.

Knight's a few feet away now, arm raised and fist clenched.

Rex decided defending his stomach would be for the best; the armour was weaker there so he could bend or twist, and one strong punch would knock the wind out of him.

Knight…wasn't in front of him anymore.

There's movement on the ground, and Rex snaps his head downwards to see Knight attempting to slide between his legs.

He almost bursts out laughing at Knight's shoulders being too wide to fit through before he realizes _oh yeah, those are_ my _feet he's knocking over_ , and he topples downwards as all of Knight's forward momentum is lost.

Rex felt something collide with his chest and the wind's forced out of his lungs.

Knight felt armour crash onto his head, leaving him dazed and reeling from a headache.

Rex flailed his arms wildly until he got his balance back and pushed upwards, struggling to remember the command for communications. He's rarely opened it himself before, just receiving and ignoring calls that came in. Comms? Communications on? _Comm-on I really need to talk to Holiday right now please_?

After pressing the manual button inside his helmet with his tongue, the beep confirming his voice is being transmitted finally sounded.

"Rex to anyone listening in Providence, I've got Knight! He's escaped but, uh," he accidentally bumped into him while sneaking out himself? He dealt with him by accidentally falling on him? A little white lie wouldn't be _disastrous_ , "I saw him and chased him down in the maintenance passages, Sector 5-J, fifth layer."

* * *

"You did well, Rex," Holiday places a hand on Rex's shoulderpad, and he smiles sheepishly. The truth could wait. Knight was handcuffed to the bed to the opposite of him, scowling and giving him dark glares every once in awhile. He replied by sticking his tongue out.

"Just doing my job here at Providence," Rex preens, smugly grinning at Knight. Knight looks away.

Rex was sitting in the lab bed, waiting for Six to come around — apparently he was injured in the stampede by an E.V.O. that had gone missing afterwards. Not as bad as other wounds, but enough for a checkup in the hospital wing.

"Although, I'm _very_ curious to hear how Knight got out in the first place," Holiday stands up straighter as her voice turns sterner, "The maintenance tunnels aren't exactly the very visible. It's almost if someone told you."

"Yes."

"Who was it?" Holiday snaps, and she glances towards the rest of the lab before quickly adding, "Six?"

"The building," Knight's answer was smooth, but Rex can catch the slight hesitation in his voice after Holiday mentioned Six, "I wanted to escape, and the computer gave me the blueprints."

"Technopathy?"

"If that's what you want to call it."

Holiday taps her cheek, thinking to herself.

Her eyes widen.

"The technopathy's not blocked by the collar. Or you could resist the shocks," Holiday starts, circling to where Knight is, "You could've escaped the cage any time you wanted to."

"A moot point, considering I had ten minutes of spare time before the rhinoceros E.V.O. tore it open."

Rex winces — he doesn't like Knight, at _all_ , but when the E.V.O. shredded through the metal he looked away.

The spray of blood and flesh, screams cut short, he never wanted to experience that again.

"And can you talk to nanites?"

It's a loaded question, Rex realizes; and Six's words echo in his mind.

_That jerk can't be the breakthrough we're looking for, right?_

There's an unreadable expression on Knight's face, concern and confusion flashing across his face as his right hand clenched.

"Can I cure E.V.O.s?" Knight licked his dry lips, eyes darting around the lab, "Yes."

Holiday stared at him. Rex stared at him. It was so casual, so flippant, " _Sure, yeah, you guys can't? This is special? Well, why didn't you say so?"_

He's expecting Knight to grin and reveal a cruel prank, giving them hope and yanking it away, but he doesn't.

The cure was _right in front of him_ , and he was _obnoxious_.

"We should start off by making sure Providence can track you," Holiday's stepping around the big point, probably saving it for a later meeting, "Headquarters is a big place."

"Tracking devices will be disassembled by my nanites," it's Knight's turn to smugly smile at Rex and Holiday, but the smile falls after he tries to shrug and his hand's pulled back down by the handcuff.

Holiday smiles back, and Rex can feel the air turn colder.

* * *

A cowbell.

Rex turns on the surveillance cameras, and sees a cowbell attached to Knight's collar.

Stark white to match with the rest of Providence, probably the most high-tech they could _make_ a bell, but it was a cowbell all the same. It rang whenever the new agent walked, sometimes even when he was shifting around, and Knight gave the most indignant glare towards anyone staring at him — even _Six_ had a medium-sized smile when he saw Knight walk in.

Soon after, he turns off the feed so he can laugh in private.

The news of a cure sparked a new hope in everybody; his higher-ups reported increased funding and more recruits in Basic. They even acknowledged Rex's budding initiative and leadership skills — first setting off the alarm and then catching Knight.

The Consortium were sometimes hard to deal with, but this was the start of a good future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may ask, why is Knight jaded and bitter even though he wasn't bleached and isolated for two years? and I'll answer, heh heh heh


	3. Hold and Secure (1/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knight really wants to drink milk but becomes sidetracked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might have noticed that this update is really late. that's because at any given time I'm thinking about White Knight going EVO. having his precious control taken away from him internally, losing his own body and mind...what a nightmare! and Six gets to relive One going EVO! fun for the whole family. anyways here's like 7k words because I too have lost control
> 
> this episode is mostly based off of Lockdown, but it also has the unresolved parts of Promises, Promises, Divide By Six, and Frostbite (it's literally impossible for Frostbite to happen in Generator Knight. Knight can't have too many nanites for...reasons)

Knight was bored.

Not the tired bored that he could sleep off. Not the bored that was staved off by looking at nothing in particular or talking to himself.

And not THAT sort of bored, either. The sheets were white but awkward to clean.

It was the kind of bored that made his fingers twitch, his teeth grind, his eyes roam in hopes of finding any action in the stark room.

The kind of bored that left a hollow feeling in his head as he sat, knees pressed to his chest, in the bed of his glorified prison cell.

Nothing here felt exciting. While milk was nice, fighting, even without his builds and a simple pistol or just his fists, got his blood pumping and his eyes sparkling with a dangerous light.

And though it was a bit aggravating that a stranger knew more about himself than he did— Knight had to admit. There was something about hearing Six comment on Knight's quirks, making small references to a life he'd never know, brushes against skin that felt like they held much more meaning than a congratulatory pat —

(Six returning to his silent, stoic self after he turned, expecting laughter, and got confusion instead.

Most of the time Six had an accusing expression on his face. Like Knight was supposed to give a heartfelt apology, for Knight to explain his past actions that he'll most likely never remember.

"You've changed."

Knight barely knew Six and he was disappointing him.)

— that brought an unexplained warmth to his chest and he couldn't help but smile at the memories.

The warmth didn't drive away the urge to drive his fist into the nearest wall, splitting both skin and tile while splattering red across the white.

His hand clenched.

 _It wouldn't do anything_ , he repeated to himself, forcing his breath to be deep and slow, _I'd still be trapped here. It wouldn't do anything._

The thought of marking this place as his own, no matter how temporarily, tempted him.

 _Dr. Fell is looking after you this week_ , he reasoned and relaxed his hands, _Six left just under an hour ago for a peacekeeping mission in Hong Kong._

Now that was an excellent counterpoint. He held down a shudder and flopped down onto the white, Providence-issued blanket and willed his muscles to loosen. Ever since Dr. Fell inspected him after word broke out Knight was a cure, Knight couldn't get his low drawl and the way he looked at him like he was an _object_ , not a person, out of his mind.

So Knight was playing it safe. Not even a papercut; nothing worth visiting any doctors, but Fell would figure out a way to call him into the lab anyways. To "study how your nanites interact with your body to create enhanced healing capabilities", probably.

The bed creaked under his weight. The pillow felt like a rock against his head.

His mind was going to turn into pudding if this spell of inaction kept up.

Speaking of food —

Knight's stomach growled, a loud reminder of the meal he skipped. What was the day again? Whatever, he'd eat anything, dubious tacos or the meatloaf that Rex insisted that they all have every Friday or otherwise. And when Six looked at him funny for eating his third serving of the day while he'd barely picked at his first, well, that was his loss.

Crowded, clamorous, chaotic, Knight should have realized he'd made a mistake when a briefing dragged on for longer than normal and he wandered into the cafeteria with Six at peak dinnertime.

Too many eyes looking at him. Too many whispers behind his back. The atmosphere was suffocating and he excused himself from Six and smiled and said he'd be fine and —

A quick glance at the clock set the time as 10 PM; no way that any grunts or scientists would be at the cafeteria now. They were either sleeping or working. The next break was at midnight which left plenty of Knight-time at nighttime.

Therefore, nobody would be there to see him raid the communal fridge. Nobody would be there to break the peace. Everything would be his to dictate, his to control.

Not that he'd know if the clock was lying or not. He was deep enough in headquarters that time was told through soldier shifts and overheard gossip.

His mouth started to water at the thought of downing milk. Sneaking out of his room would be a brief respite from his monotonous existence, a small thrill that he could indulge in — soon, his thoughts were overridden with a plan to be completely unseen as he pilfered a carton of milk for his own.

The lock to his room was a complete joke; electronic, like most other things in Providence. A trivial task to hack into and overrule.

Fingers twitching, breath hitching from a faint buzz from the collar, a spark of gold carrying his command to Providence's interface, the door slid open under the impression Agent Holiday was visiting.

Dumb things. Nobody except Six visited him.

Those visits were few and far between, anyways.

Under a minute and he was already looking up and down the corridor for any signs of life. He stuck out like a sore thumb — though he did fit in with the overall, bland Providence palette, he was wearing the tank top and black combat shorts he was found with (with all of the blood washed off, courtesy of Providence. Well, most of the blood, if the vague pink stain on the white top said anything) and Providence-brand boots instead of the standard uniform.

He could go back and put it on to blend in better, but the thought of it made him retch. _I'm not wearing that thing more than I'm required to._

At least they removed the cowbell when he used it as a blunt weapon in his first escape attempt. One hand holding the clapper so the bell wouldn't ring meant one hand not free to defend himself.

The collar, however, was 'upgraded' with a new tracker.

He wished the damned collar was removed along with the cowbell. They didn't trust him to give his body back; granted, Knight didn't trust them either.

Not a single one. Scientists in green with stories from a (possibly fake) shared past or otherwise.

His hand clenched around the corner of the wall. Food first, complaining later.

Shutdown signal sent to the surveillance camera that surveyed the area, a quick listen for anyone patrolling, Knight was hurrying away from his room to —

Knight ducked into a gap in the wall, shadows hiding his form from any onlookers.

Where was the cafeteria again?

He could walk to the nearest screen to ask for directions, but that would log his request for anyone to see; mostly for the security sector, but anyone curious and bored enough (Rex) could access it. At that point he might as well broadcast that he was going to the cafeteria to the whole base.

_Wait._

Knight wanted to slap himself in the face. Technopathy wasn't just for opening maintenance hatches and prison doors, he could talk to technology the same way he commanded nanites.

Gold lines spread from his palm onto the wall he leaned against as he closed his eyes to focus. The map flashed in his vision, mostly yellow with a path of striking red leading towards his destination.

He strode towards the cafeteria, security cameras playing dead footage behind him, with confidence.

* * *

The door slid open, Providence logo splitting to reveal the cafeteria. The contrast between peak hours and now was astronomical; it was the difference between hearing a hundred voices talking and utter silence.

Knight poked his head through the doorway to survey the area.

The large room was completely empty, just as Knight predicted. Tables ordered neatly, identical chairs an equal distance away from the tables and perfectly perpendicular to them, and not a person in sight; in other words, the perfect place to eat.

Whistling a tune from the top of his head, he made his way to the communal fridges in the corner. The gaps between rows was large enough so he didn't have to worry about ruining the perfect order of the cafeteria (at least, before other people would do that for him), and within a minute he'd crossed the room to where the food was kept.

His mouth watered. His stomach growled. He was _so close_.

The fridge swung open with a press of his palm (a bit showy, he wasn't sure if they locked the fridge or not but commanding it to open was much easier) and he reached out to one of the cartons of homogenized milk near the back –

A hand stopped his own, fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist.

"Your form's sloppy."

"Wh—" Knight stared, numb, at the hand barring him from reaching his prize. A moment passed before his mind parsed who was talking to him, the person that apparently appeared out of thin air. "Agent Holiday?"

"I could hear you five corridors away. And your perception could use some work," she continued, not even acknowledging Knight's dumbfounded response. "I was only hiding under a table."

Like hiding under a table was the normal thing response to hearing someone approaching.

"The alert that 'I' was on the other side of Providence, visiting you, didn't hurt." Holiday brought her hand down, taking Knight's arm with it; he held back a wince. No way that twist wasn't on purpose. "Couldn't pick a person who actually talks to you?"

"He's in Hong Kong right now."

Holiday made an odd expression at him; anticipation, interest —

Concern?

Unless Knight was breaking down from hunger, that was a hint of _sympathy_ on her face.

He couldn't fathom why. It irritated him.

Knight bristled, on the defensive. Ignoring him, Holiday kicked the fridge door shut in an agonizing fashion; the door drifted to a close, the cartons of milk slowly disappearing behind it.

"We're going on a mission," Holiday stated, "Milk can come later."

Though, where was the notification in his communicator?

"This isn't authorized, is it." A statement, not a question.

Holiday shrugged, confirming his suspicions. She turned around and motioned for Knight to follow; not that he had a choice, she still held on to his wrist.

Knight could almost fool himself into thinking this was a normal curing mission instead of a forceful abduction. Just that the alarms weren't blaring. And Rex wasn't on the screens, stumbling over his lines while trying to inform the base on the situation. And there weren't any grunts surrounding him to make sure he wouldn't run. And Six wasn't talking in his ear.

And Holiday had her hand clasped rightly around his wrist, wrenching him along to who-knows-where.

By the third turn, Knight had lost where they were on his mental map. The hallways had the exact same design, the exact same palette, and the exact same loneliness that permeated headquarters; honestly, they should name the sprawling halls and put some signs up.

Sectors and number designations worked fine. If you had a map or the world's finest memory.

 _Let Rex name 'em, too_. Knight quickened his pace to keep up with Holiday's solid steps, giving up on trying to deduce where she was taking him. _Might get more confusing though._

Left turn into an elevator, where Holiday's fingers ghosted over the numbers to their destination — seemed to be the floor the lab was on.

 _Maybe Holiday could name the halls._ He tore his eyes away from her and coaxed his anxiety to a manageable level. _Or Six._

And his heart rate shot up again.

_Think about something else._

_Like what? Where we're going?_ There were a multitude unknowns, he was helpless against Holiday's will when the collar still wrapped around his neck, and for all he knew Holiday was dragging him into an alley to exact revenge on attacking Rex.

Kid had it coming for him. He'd heard what Providence does to E.V.O.s, dragging them from the streets in the name of searching for a cure where they would never be seen again.

Sentient or not.

The stories he'd heard from the more humanoid E.V.O.s when he wandered the week following his awakening made his blood boil and his vision turn red; mostly tales of horror of what happens within the pristine white walls of Providence, exaggerated truths passed around that made them cower when an assault tank drew near.

Knight had seen their mutations. The power they held. Providence had no right to silence their voices, deem them subhuman.

Removing Providence's figurehead would send a message to them; we are worthy of recognition.

_Look where that got me. I'm their newest symbol._

The elevator hummed to life as it carried them upwards, sound in the emptiness of headquarters.

Thinking about 'something else' raised his blood pressure even higher; the restless air between the two Providence agents didn't help either.

What was he supposed to do, talk?

_May as well._

"You're an assassin, right?" Knight started, breaking the tense silence between the two.

"The correct term is 'agent'," without missing a beat, without breaking her stride, without even glancing at him, she answered, "I suggest you use it."

Knight internally winced; that wasn't a good start. "Then, agents tend to use secret code — why 'Holiday'?"

"What?"

"Agent 'Holiday'. Is there any reason for that designation or is it personal preference?"

This time, Holiday did turn — directly at him with an incredulous look on her face.

"Holiday is my last name."

"Oh."

Well, silence wasn't _that_ bad, Knight decided. They didn't talk outside of work anyways, and even then they were orders snapped at Knight to hurry up, slow down, wait until they brought the E.V.O. to him. Why start now?

The quiet stretched to when they reached the lab, and Knight half-expected for Holiday to knock him out right then and there to strap him into one of the tables. Granted, he didn't know what she'd do afterwards in his imagination – maybe she and Dr. Fell were working together?

That was out of character. Even Holiday hated him.

A half-finished cylindrical object lay near the wall; something to scan and study his nanites, from what Six said. To be honest, Knight wasn't sure Six knew exactly what it was either – the topic was dropped in favour of small talk about the latest mission.

Holiday instead dragged him over to the lab's controls.

He'd had enough.

"Alright, you've made your point." Knight jerked his arm away in an attempt to break free from her grip, "You're cutting off circulation to my hand."

A slight exaggeration, but the tips of his fingers were starting to tingle. Not as uncomfortable as the extended, unwanted contact.

"Just ensuring you're following me."

A code was tapped into the console, too quick for Knight to see; not that it would stop him from hacking in. The lab rumbled under his feet and he scampered back in an undignified fashion.

"We're going to the Petting Zoo. People who normally work here are sleeping right now."

That explained why the research tower was moving downwards. Although…

"The whole lab going down seems like a waste of resources."

"Something about E.V.O.s being easier to transport," Holiday shrugged, her eyes looking forwards at the foliage within the Zoo. "I'm not the one who built it."

The trip down was uneventful; nobody bothered to check _why_ the research tower was parked in the Petting Zoo when nobody was officially on it currently. Which was a security flaw he could exploit later.

Lush green forest, small dirt paths, the sound of diurnal E.V.O.s resting or nocturnal E.V.O.s prowling filling the unnatural air – the highly acclaimed cage of Providence was exactly how Knight remembered it.

Wasting no time, Holiday strode onward. Thankfully, without her death grip on him as she used both of her hands to move branches out of her way.

The feeling of someone holding onto him in the Zoo, both running in unison, brought the memory of Six's prone and bleeding form into his mind.

He never wanted to relive that.

Knight never strayed from Holiday's position as she continued. If Providence headquarters was hard to navigate, then Knight was hopeless in the Zoo – trees that looked the same, earth that looked the same, no technology nearby to give him a mental map, and added monsters ready to rip him to shreds.

The darkness from the imitation night made it worse.

Not soon enough, Holiday finally stopped. While Knight was physically fine from his nanites and his fit form, he wanted the ordeal to be over and done with as quickly as possible – go back, drink milk, take a shower, drink more milk, and sleep until his alarm woke him up for the morning briefing.

"You know, you could have just asked me to go to," Knight glanced at his surroundings, anger turning into a vague sense of fear — he didn't recognize this place. Granted, the only time he ever was in the Petting Zoo was the time he was caged there like — like some _rabid animal_ , but the dense forest blocked out all the natural light and made the overgrown vault entrance even more foreboding, "This place. Where are we, anyway?"

"The Hole."

"The Hole — did _Rex_ name it? Doesn't this organization have a religious theme – Purgatory or Paradise would have been fine. Why did you kidnap me to the worst-named place in Providence?"

Holiday grabbed Knight's wrist again in lieu of a real answer (ignoring his protests, of course), dragging him into the dark hallway — the vault door rolled to a close behind them and he could hear the hissing of a locking mechanism moving into place.

Not that it would stop him from escaping.

His right hand flexed, itching to release the cascade of metal to — whatever, just be out. To assure him that he was protected. That he could defend himself.

The shock against his skin wasn't painful, per say, but it was noticeable. A prickle against his neck and the phantom weight of the knowledge that what was rightfully his was taken away from him.

Disgusting. They were only delaying humanity's evolution.

(He tried hacking into the collar, once. Four days in when everyone let their guard down. He awoke with burns across his neck and Six above him, mumbling that they should turn down the voltage.

Two minutes; Knight's yelling choice curses, struggling against the restraints that tied him to the hospital bed. Six turned away and did his best to ignore him.

Knight could see him shaking.

Five minutes; it crashed down on him — he almost died. The electricity could have easily arched through his heart, killing him, someone with a grudge could have found his unconscious body, killing him, he could have been standing much too close to the railing and fallen down through the glass, killing him —

_I almost died._

_I wouldn't be able to finish my job._

He started laughing, then laughed so hard tears started falling and the laugh turned into choked gasps of air as the thought _I almost died_ rattled in his head over and over again.

He couldn't remember much after that. He thinks Six sedated him.)

A few moments passed, quiet except for the sounds of Holiday and Knight's footsteps as they traversed deeper and deeper. He felt sweat beading on his forehead despite the chilly air — nobody knew they were there. It was dark enough to hide bodies.

Holiday, despite wearing a modest combat suit lacking the pouches and pockets her normal outfit had, probably had a hundred ways to kill him.

He shivered.

Holiday was paying close attention to him, he was sure of it; but the dark interior of the Hole and the element of surprise could work to his advantage. His arms were powerful even without the enhancements. A lunge to topple her, a punch to the throat to disable her, then –

Providence grunts surrounding him and being thrown right back into his cage. With added security.

Maybe not, then.

His eyes adjusted to the dim light, enough that he could see lines of red-grey where columns were but not nearly enough to see past the blob of shade in front of him.

He looked at Holiday's night vision goggles with envy.

Maybe he could design a build that allowed him to see in the dark? It would help, but at that point he could just make a flashlight or a laser.

"Are we almost there?" his question echoed against the hallway. Creatures behind reinforced doors stirred and Knight snapped his mouth shut while picking up his pace.

Holiday turned her head, the lenses of the goggles giving her the appearance of an EVO spider. Her gaze still pierced through them and Holiday made a motion that told him to shush.

He huffed. As if he couldn't tell.

It felt like hours to Knight, walking towards darkness with no end in sight and only Holiday's firm grip guiding him. His mind had wandered as the pillars and shadows blended together to form one shapeless mass, legs carrying him forward with no conscious decision.

Which led to him bumping right into Holiday. His momentum carried forwards into her, almost causing her to fall.

 _Almost_. Instead, she straightened up and turned to look at him with the unnerving spider-eye goggles.

"The Hole _usually_ houses E.V.O.s too dangerous to roam freely in the Petting Zoo. I didn't want to wake any of them up." Holiday lifted her night vision goggles, showing off her glare. "We're far away enough to talk now."

"We're right in front of a cage."

"I said _usually_. There's one exception."

That was the only warning she gave before the lock spun open, red replacing green before the door slid apart.

Inside –

Knight jerked away from the piercing, almost glowing red eyes in the dark — danger, his mind yelled at him and urged him to step back more, _you're not safe._

Her nails dug into his skin through the fabric of her gloves, her silence a threat in itself.

The creature inside the cage shifted — though not by much. It rocked back and forth with strands of black hair drifting lazily, drool dripping out of its skull-like mouth, two fangs on either side of its head twitching in time with the clicks of Holiday's boots against the tile as she approached a screen in the wall —

The hallway hummed.

The red light brightened.

Holiday looked at the creature expectantly.

The E.V.O. let out a shriek as it ducked its head, hair swinging wildly. Why wasn't it trying to run, then? Or cover its sensitive eyes? Why was it —

 _Why was its body shaped so oddly_ —

Jagged wounds, imperfect circles, empty space where any of its limbs should have been. That was the first thing Knight noticed when his eyes adjusted to the crimson light.

It didn't look recent, no sign of blood, but the marks of violence were obvious. The wounds told the whole story — completely unlike the mutilated, ragged flesh and missing bone if a limb was ripped off, more like dozens of botched amputation attempts with one finally dismembering it. Uneven cuts scattered across all of what was remaining of the limbs. Some only breaking the skin and some digging deeper.

Whoever wounded the beast chopped it over, and over, and over —

( _How did he know this? Why did he know this?_ )

The thing was pitiful; powerful shoulders that ended in stumps, places where legs would clearly begin stopping short, scars riddled across its bumpy blue-grey skin, the only movement from it being caused by its ragged breaths; no wonder it was kept in a cage, the E.V.O. would be eaten alive out in the Petting Zoo.

Sympathy; an emotion that was a surprise to Knight. He felt _sympathy_ for the amputated creature chained in the deepest part of the Petting Zoo, held back from reaching its full potential.

Knight had a feeling Holiday didn't bring him here just to ogle at it.

"So," Knight paused, looking to Holiday for any direction, "What now?"

"You're the cure. Do your job."

Simple enough. Preparing himself, he reached out towards the creature and ignored the flecks of spit launched his way and touched its side –

_There's something wrong._

That was his first thought. Why that came into his mind, he wasn't sure; everything was going exactly as planned so far. The ordered, glowing lines crawled from his palm up to his arm and down to the E.V.O., signifying the transferral of active nanites from it to Knight–

 _What_ _transferral?_

Order broke to chaos; as the lines travelled across the spider-like creature's body, passing over the bumps on its back and the stumps on the other side, they lost form. Strayed from their given path. Crashed into each other.

Became deformed. Twisted. Crooked.

_All or nothing._

He didn't understand; why wasn't it being cured?

_All the nanites or none of them._

"This isn't working," Knight hoped she couldn't hear the hint of panic edging onto his voice.

"No, no, this has to be a mistake." Holiday's expression was strained between stoic and hysterical, her eyes darting between the EVO and Knight. "You have to cure her. That's what you _do_."

"I'm trying, but — wait, her?"

This time, Holiday's eyes settled on the EVO. The tranquilizer stayed pointed at its main torso, where Knight's gold lines lost all sense of order and turned to jagged lightning instead.

"Can you elaborate on—"

"This isn't the time for talking! Just —" She gave one, last forlorn look to the spider-like creature and turned that crestfallen gaze to Knight. "Please."

Knight turned away with sweat forming on his brow.

The gold lines prickled against his skin, like static electricity building — static electricity that needed to be discharged. It felt as though his skin was splitting apart, the cracks overflowing with yellow light as he tried, and tried, to bring its activated nanites in without pulling apart its body.

There were so many.

He was so hungry.

Knight could still feel the tug of every single nanite, a siren song; _harvest it, turn it into dust, take all of it for yourself._

He commanded.

They resisted.

"Maybe the collars do impede your curing powers —"

"Holiday —"

"But what's the chances of it not showing up before? Unless — unless you're _lying_. You still hold a grudge against me, don't you?"

"No, I don't!" Well, that _was_ a lie; who wouldn't be bitter at an agent who knocked them out just as a fight was getting _fun_? But whatever was preventing him from curing the E.V.O., from doing the one thing Providence kept him alive for, had _nothing_ to do with Holiday.

"Then why can't you cure her? Just communicate with the nanites and bring her back!"

"I —" he stuttered, unable to hold back the dread forming. Had he lost the ability to cure? He'd be useless to Providence. "I don't —"

He had no doubt in his mind that they'd kill him in an instant if he became a burden.

With a burst of strength, Knight forced his will against the foreign nanites again —

Knight could talk to them. Shout his own commands, his own code —

But it was as if they were speaking in another language. They, the conglomerate, many against his few. Fewer. Burning away with no stabilizing, grounding force.

Two things were certain; _hate, vengeance_.

The foreign minds chanted in a tone that transcended language barriers, **_hate, vengeance_**.

The lines flashed red.

" **Communication channels enabled. Unknown languages detected** ," he intoned, the gold in his blown-wide eyes shifting to crimson, " **Run-time errors detected. A-protocol terminated. Abort. Abort. Protection of the host is first priority. Stand by engaged.** "

The world blurred around him in an array of red and grey. The streaks of crimson returned to his hands as his body refused his commands and went limp; it felt as though static was playing in his mind, blocking out thoughts. His eyes focused at nothing in particular, watching disinterested at Holiday reaching out for him, the creature spitting out drool as it screeched, his surroundings spinning as the static spread through his body.

Writhing as his arms felt like they were tearing themselves apart, screaming as his mind refused to understand the retaliation and reply; Knight was on the floor in seconds.

* * *

_The first thing he knows is hate._

_Before he felt the grit against his face, before he sensed liquid running down his face, before he heard engines growing louder and voices growing closer._

_It's an ugly emotion that sinks its teeth into him, ripping him apart in a frenzy;_ move _, it says, and though his body felt odd and the concept of pain hadn't yet set in, he complies. He pushes himself off the rough asphalt while fighting off a wave of dizziness, stands up despite his legs shaking._

_There's a cocoon of unidentifiable metal surrounding him, white and unwelcoming. Not unyielding; a push and it gave way, opening like a flower in bloom._

_The sky was clouded but not grey; the sun's light danced across them, yellows, oranges, and pinks blending and separating in a natural painting._

_A beautiful sight, and he couldn't help but stare up in awe._

_The flash of light and buildings being leveled in an instant, faraway screams cut short, maybe not as beautiful._

_Loud and sudden, the sound of an explosion followed; the rumble shook his body and threatened to knock him over._

_In the distance, a column of smoke rising into the sky as white specks fell out of it._

_He ignores the confusion and loneliness and takes his first, staggered steps._

_(You're not alone. Sirens mixed with the cacophony.)_

_Weak. He was weak._

_He was stronger_ before _._

_He hates whatever did this to him. Power. Wanted it back. Needed it back._

_Priority: find someone to explain the situation. Get a sense of order._

_"Hello?" He flinched from his own voice, cracked and meek with disuse. The sound didn't feel like his own, ever since —_

_Ever since…?_

_New priority: Why couldn't he remember anything?_

_What did he remember?_

_Not much, considering the complete emptiness in his mind._

_Who was he?_

Knight _, he clings onto the first word that comes to mind._ I'm Knight _._

_That didn't feel complete. Maybe it was the lack of first name. Or last name, if Knight was his first name. Perhaps Knight was a nickname, or a designation?_

_He moved forwards. Coughed to clear the dust from his lungs. Shambling in the ruins of a city, deserted except for him and his thoughts._

_What happened here?_

_You._

**_Knight._ **

* * *

"Knight?"

He jolted up, shaking from the adrenaline rushing through his system; the haze that settled through him dispersed at the sudden movement and within seconds his focus was on his surroundings.

Holiday's hands on his shoulders, shaking him back and forth, certainly helped too.

Knight picked himself off the floor, brushing any residue from the tiles off of his clothes; who knows what kind of dirt agents or E.V.O.s had brought in from the Petting Zoo that was hidden by the dim lighting? Routine cleanups or no, the moment he had free time he was going to throw his clothes into the uniform laundry chute and take a long, hot shower.

As long and hot as Providence allowed, anyway. That was usually around 5 minutes and lukewarm, colder if Rex was draining the water supply for a bath and the electricity to play video games in the bath.

Surprising that Providence technology was waterproof, considering the rate they were ripped apart by rampaging E.V.O.s.

"What happened?" They were still in the Hole, next to the ( _uncured_ , Knight bit his lip) E.V.O. That was obvious from the monster's wheezes and the darker interior that glinted in the red light; the rest of Providence was bright with fluorescent lights unless a power outage occurred. The E.V.O. threat never slept, so neither did headquarters.

What was less obvious was the time and what happened before he blacked out. The memories were vague and supersaturated — there was absolutely no chance that the onslaught of red was caused by the dim lighting.

"Funny," Holiday said in a way that suggested no humour, "I was about to ask the same thing."

There would be no answer from either of them, then.

Silence between the two as Holiday let go of Knight and stood up, turning her head away; Knight followed her gaze to the E.V.O.

The E.V.O. stared back at them, gaze unyielding, eyes unblinking. Guilt flashed through him before he could crush it.

"Is it—"

"She." Holiday didn't hesitate to correct him, and from her tone she wanted it to be the last correction.

"Is she important to you?"

This time, Holiday did hesitate; gaze moving from Knight back to the spider-like E.V.O. She was fighting an internal battle, probably whether to tell him whatever secret she was keeping or not.

This was a sensitive subject, wounds still raw. Knight could feel it.

"Look, I can forget this ever happened." Knight paused. "As long as you get me a glass of milk."

"Oh, right, sorry. Forgot about that. Must've been hungry for a 10 PM milk run." A quiet laugh escaped her lungs before she fell silent, staring at the floor before her eyes snapped to attention at Knight. "She's my sister."

The milk run — oh.

The E.V.O.

"What," how could he phrase this? The situation was even more fragile than he thought. He settled on the bland question, "What happened to her?"

"Her nanites activated," Holiday started, voice cracking; she moved to stand beside her sister, hand rested on one of the powerful shoulders, "I ran to the school as fast as I could once Providence called, but —"

Holiday's brows furrowed and she flinched at her sister's attempt to move, bringing her hand back as if it would hurt the E.V.O.

"She was hurting people. Her classmates. She was only thirteen at the time." Holiday was lost in the memory, hands clenched, arms shaking, and sadness in her eyes but otherwise her body did not betray her emotions. "I stopped her."

She stopped her sister.

She couldn't stop herself from tearing her sister apart. Uneven cuts made from instinct and adrenaline, not years of training.

"Providence hired me soon afterwards." Her tone completely shifted; sadness replaced by bitterness. "I was apparently _impressive_ out in the field. As long as I work with Providence, they'll do everything they can for my sister."

What could he say to that? That everything wasn't enough? No amount of sympathy would seem genuine since he had never experienced anything like it in his short memory. Advice was out of his skillset of "wait in Providence until you're needed to cure an E.V.O." — and even _that_ purpose he couldn't fulfill. None of it was his fault, so he couldn't apologize.

Wait, he _could_ apologize.

"Sorry I couldn't cure her," Knight started, fidgeting with his hands as he gauged her reaction. A look of surprise appeared on her face before it was smoothed down to neutral; it wasn't negative, so that was a start. "Maybe if I—"

"No, no, it's fine." Holiday composed herself, shoulders straightening from the disheartened slouch she sported before. "We need to figure out if the problem is on your end or not."

"You're—" Knight stopped, realizing that pointing out she was changing the topic to keep her mind off the E.V.O. would most likely end badly for him, "— right."

"Head back to the lab. I'll notify Dr. Fell."

A grimace appeared on Knight's face; he forgot Dr. Fell would be the one running the tests in place of Six. _Shouldn't have agreed_.

Knight stretched out his arms to test their strength; nothing broken, nothing bruised, a small positive considering the ordeal he just went through. He was fairly certain he could find his way out of the Hole – it was a straight line from the entrance to Holiday's sister's cage.

It was embarrassing, having to be led around by the blueprints or Holiday – he didn't like knowing far less than everyone else. _One day I'll memorize the layout_ , he promised as he finished inspecting his body and walked forwards –

An arm looped around his waist and Knight was thrown backwards onto the floor; the taser sparking over him gave a clear indication on who knocked him backwards.

Along with the fact Holiday was the only other sentient person there.

"What the hell was _that_ for?"

"Quiet."

Knight opened his mouth.

 _Something_ skittered across the floor of the Hole, close enough that he could hear bird-like shrieks and the individual legs clattering across tile.

Soon afterwards, the noises were cut short. Growling and liquid dripping replaced it.

 _The Hole usually houses E.V.O.s too dangerous to roam freely in the Petting Zoo_ , Holiday's earlier words echoed in his mind.

Knight closed his mouth.

Without a word, Holiday reached out to the cage door, hand grasped around the mechanism to pull it shut.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Knight was careful to keep his voice hushed

"Closing the door to lock everything out, what does it _look_ like I'm doing?"

"What?"

"Don't be worried about being locked in here, _you're_ the one that can command technology. Or have you lost that power, too?" The statement was a simple question that held no spite, but it stung like acid in a new wound all the same. "Now be quiet and _stay_ quiet."

Ignoring it, he pushed himself up and stepped towards Holiday; she whipped her head around with an expression that screamed 'what did I _just_ say?'.

"You have a tranquilizer gun, a taser, and years of Providence training. We don't need to trap ourselves in here."

In a move that contrasted with Holiday's earlier, steady movements, she wrenched the door shut. Knight flinched; from the sound, he told himself, not from the waves of intimidation coming from Holiday.

"We can't just _leave_ her." Holiday was disbelieving, shoulders raising and gaze flickering everywhere except for Knight. Her voice was still a whisper, strained and hissed through her teeth. She took one step towards him; seems like she wanted Knight to stay behind whether he wanted to or not. "She'll be ripped to pieces!"

" _We'll_ be ripped to pieces if we _stay_!" Knight took another step in the direction of the cage door, keeping his stance wide in case a fight broke out; not that his fists would do well against a taser and a tranquilizer, but he counted on his nanites to at _least_ give him a chance. "We cut out losses and make a tactical retreat."

"' _Losses'_ – since when did you start giving orders?"

"Since _you_ started making bad plans!"

That stopped Holiday in her tracks. Even her expression froze, cold eyes staring right at Knight and lips pressed into a thin line. The Providence-issued taser shook in her tight grip, the only indication of her fury.

"Go ahead then. Run." There wasn't a hint of emotion in her voice, icy calm settling into the gap where her anger once showed. "I'm sure you'll do fine with no weapons, alone, and absolutely nobody that would lift a finger to help you."

It was Knight who went rigid this time, mind grinding to a halt as her words echoed inside his head. He wanted to say to himself that the jab didn't hurt him, that he was perfectly _fine_ on his own, that he was stopping just to revaluate his decisions and _not_ because Holiday was bringing up his worst emotions.

Instead, he drew his lips up in a facsimile of a snarl, annoyance with Agent Holiday masking any weakness. Holiday would do fine on her own; she'd need to stay for longer than normal for the grunts to open the cage in place of Knight, but Knight on his own…

"Fine."

A small smile appeared on Holiday, anything but sweet. "We'll follow proper hold and secure protocols then, H-1. It's probably something small, like a few E.V.O.s that have wandered into the Hole. Did we close the vault on our way in–"

Red danced in Knight's vision.

The world filled with the sounds of sirens shrieking, alarms blaring —

Something inhuman crashing against the cage door —

[And from a past forgotten by one;

This cage will not become my grave.

I believe we can strike a deal, then.]

A calm, synthetic voice pierced through the unending chaos that made Knight collapse to his knees —

_Multiple containment breaches located in the Petting Zoo. Sectors A-1 to Z-10 are compromised._

_The Hole is compromised._

_Initiating lockdown procedure._


	4. Hold and Secure (2/3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [looks at the word count] I've made a mistake. Hold and Secure was going to be only 2 parts but uh...
> 
> I know it happened in late September but I'm still happy that I met MoA at London Comic Con! plus I got to ask some (many) questions to Duncan Rouleau. a lot of things got answered! like, Six is Chinese (it's been confirmed before but I think my recording is the first public recording?), One is Japanese (guessed right!), Six's magna-blades were built by Knight and Six and are a counter to Rex (spot on), White Knight and Six met because Knight was assigned to kill Six (:0), and, most importantly, White Knight's canonically gay and was in love with Six (to the surprise of...nobody, but to the excitement of everyone). which basically buries Expiration Date in the grave that I've dug and marked out already.
> 
> I've also set all of their appearances (bambeptin.tumblr.com/image/156832510433) but since these are "past" chapters, Holiday and Knight look different. Knight doesn't have the hoodie and Holiday has a whole new combat suit
> 
> anyways I forgot to mention anywhere in the fic that Rex has vitiligo so chapter 1 has been edited slightly to accommodate

The screen screamed at Rex.

No A.I. (which would have been _super_ cool, he tried to explain to Six, who denied his request to build an "artificial intelligence like in those movies? The ones that are red and eventually turn evil? But without the evil part" for the base), but the little alarms blared, flashed, sung their tune at him anyways.

Was it morning _already?_

He wished he could slap his hand on the top of an alarm clock to get it to snooze, like in those cartoons he'd watched, but to turn off the alarm he had to get up and reach the screen. At that point he'd be one-hundred percent awake and one-hundred percent grumpy.

Rex yawned and rubbed his eyes, blurry vision trying to focus on the main screen in his office. His bed was a bit away from his table (mostly so Holiday wouldn't nag him on how messy it was. He _needed_ that many pillows, alright?) and the jolt from dreaming to awareness didn't help much.

The dream was faint, slipping from his mind like sand through hands. Bright colours, laughter, familiarity that he wanted to achieve again — grass instead of tiles. He was running with others, _chasing_. Wind, the smell of nature, instead of recycled air. There was a cow, maybe?

But —

Providence was his duty.

A hollow feeling settled deep in his chest as he stretched, empty space surrounding him, a void with no personality. Or personal belongings. It felt worse today.

The room, tinted red to rid it of blue light emitted from all the LEDs in his room that would certainly throw his biological clock even more off balance, came into view as his eyes focused. The three UV lamps at his back were off and he had no desire to turn them on any time soon. Warmth radiated from the heaters nearby.

Physically comfortable, emotionally lacking.

(Had the room always been _this_ red? Maybe they were testing how much blue light needed to be cancelled out. He _had_ been getting better sleep lately, surprisingly given the… recent developments. He maybe-remembered Six saying _something_ along those lines.)

He shook his head, a headache forming behind his eyes.

The light hurt. Fell said that would happen eventually, his body reacting to the sudden lack of melanin, but knowing what would happen did nothing to lessen the pain. The alarm, still not shutting up and leaving him be, only made the pain worse.

He crawled out, grumbling, still in his motorcycle-print pajamas and wrapped up cozy in one of his blankets. Not at all ready to start the day, but it was something.

Flinching at the feel of cold tile against his bare feet, he stood up and plopped himself right in the seat of his white office chair. The finest, softest, whitest office chair government funding could buy. It groaned under the weight of him and his blanket, but Rex ignored it — not like it was broken yet. He'd leave that for future Rex.

He wanted to go right back onto his air mattress.

It was on the floor near his bed. The Committee, Consortium, Council, whatever other ominous name that started with a C they decided to call themselves _this_ week, didn't want to send power tools in so he could construct a bedframe for himself, but he didn't mind. It meant he could go from work to flopped on his bed in a matter of seconds; he had, before, in a monotonous debriefing, where he scared Holiday by toppling offscreen.

The temptation to curl back up under the sheets for the entire day was strong. He would have, if it didn't mean seemingly every adult in Providence would be at his throat.

Rex curled up on his chair instead, white blanket draped over his back.

"G'mornin," he said to nobody in particular, stifling another yawn. Just in case someone from the Committee was checking up on him. Eyelids heavy, he stretched again, cracked his knuckles, and —

— _why did the clock read 1:28 AM_.

Now _that_ was a slap to his face. His brain went into overdrive, clarity rushing into him as he fully woke up. The alarm he originally mistook as his wakeup call still rang, needy, now taking on a darker tone as he realized —

The emergency lockdown alarm had the same cadence, the same colour.

Of course, the giant letters blocking out "EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN PROCEDURE" helped.

What was more worrying was "SECURITY COMPROMISED" right underneath.

No, no, no, he didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to think about _any_ of it.

_Deep breaths. One at a time._

_Compartmentalize._

"Oh. Oh _jeez_ , the procedure, uh," Rex started, rambling to collect his thoughts. Whatever the second part meant could come later. The blanket fell from his shoulders as he stood to attention, fingers ghosting the screen as he reached out, took back, trying to remember what he had to do — had it sent the warning to all of HQ already? Should he forward it? There must have been some agents still awake, right?

...what sections were under lockdown, anyways?

He tapped the X to dismiss the alerts. Instantly, the crimson in his room faded to a darker, softer shade and the screen returned to its unblemished, bright self.

With a swipe of his hand, he brought up the connection to the security cameras, listed in order from floor to section to specific camera — thankfully, whoever created the system also included a way to rename and search for a camera, making Rex's job slightly easier.

The camera views flicked across Rex's vision, never straying from places he regularly 'visited' but never staying either; the meeting space outside of his room, the lab, the war room (which was green. Rex stopped for a second. Why was the rest of Providence drab and grey but the war room green?), Bobo's room —

Finger hovering over the 'next view' button, Rex stared at the emergency call line.

The button positioned right underneath the view, a private, two-way connection directly between him and help.

Directly to Agent Holiday. Directly to Doctor Fell and Six.

( _If you use it without an actual emergency being present, there_ will _be consequences_ , his higher-ups bolded in the email they sent to him in his first week, _Do not argue on this. Your life must be threatened._

 _So what counts as an emergency?_ , he sent back, still exploring what he could do in the confines in his office — odd, back then he thought it was almost limitless. The Providence network and the Internet, right at his fingertips. Maybe it was, but nowadays…

_No papercuts. Only amputations._

_Wow, way to be cheerful :^(_

_This is no laughing matter._ )

He wasn't _panicking_ , per say, but there was a noticeable tremor at his fingers and a heavy weight had settled in his chest.

Thousands of _what-ifs_ rattled in his head. He wasn't the one that set off the alarm — sure, he liked pranking people, but setting off a lockdown alarm was a few steps above playing a faint but noticeable nightcore remix in the cafeteria speakers — so who was it? The rest of Providence was professional. No pranks. Was it an intruder, using it to disorient the base?

Was something actually _loose_?

Was someone targeting Providence?

Was he...in danger?

The thought felt alien to him. Everything was on a screen, beyond the walls — it was more like a game. Send some commands, the people on the screen moved. Fight the monsters, get to the objectives, _win_. Most of the time the control didn't run that deep; watching idly as the soldiers did their thing, contain or capture, rush Knight in to cure it and then rush him out to keep him a secret. Sometimes _kill_ , Rex supposed, but they didn't allow him to watch that.

Dull red shifted to light blue as he pressed the screen, signalling that the channel was open — the Committee was busy, Agent Holiday was busy (surprisingly, as she _should_ have be sleeping. She was too perceptive to leave her indicator as "busy" by accident. _Maybe she's just getting some fresh air_ ), Doctor Fell was busy ( _why was everyone busy? Did anyone sleep in this base?!_ ), and Six—

_Connection established._

From halfway across the world in another Providence base, a live video of Six appeared on screen.

White and grey background, barren appearance, blocky shapes that strictly adhered to Providence's ascetic aesthetic — if it wasn't for the local time and location being clearly displayed in the bottom right, anyone could have confused it for Headquarters.

Or any other Providence base, actually.

Rex almost skipped to the next contact, cutting the connection. _What could_ he _do about this_?, Rex thought, looking down the list of agents. Calan was next. Except, when he thought about the issue more, finding someone to physically fight, to be there with him in headquarters, was not his goal.

Rex didn't know what the issue _was_ , exactly, to see what was going on he had to switch to the right view. And the screen didn't automatically show him where the origin of the lockdown _was_ because he was just the White Pawn, he didn't need to do anything about it except sit pretty in his office and wait it out.

He needed guidance. He needed someone to talk to.

It wasn't as if Six was preparing anything important either, just scribbling in the bare minimum of a report, pressed up against the desk and looking like he would rather be anywhere but there.

"Hey, doc!"

"…Doc?" Six raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to look at the screen in front of him. The pen was put aside, a show of respect towards his 'boss'. More of a habit than anything.

"Yeah! That can be your nickname!"

"Six is already —" he paused, cutting off the sentence as if rethinking his words. "Six is already a short name. I don't see a point in a nickname."

"It's all for fun! Like, Agent Holiday can be Holi and," the image of the cure snarling at him beyond the screen flashed in his mind, "Knight can be—"

"No swearing."

"Come on, purest human on _Earth_ over here?" Rex huffed, leaning back into his plush chair. Despite his indignant tone, a small smile formed on his face. "Do you really think I'd—"

"Yes."

Rex grinned. Six knew him well.

He wanted to believe that it was of natural causes, picking up words here and there while scrolling through the cameras of Providence. Anything from pawns swearing when Bobo took in all the poker chips (again) to oh-so mysterious technological failures that definitely had nothing to do with Rex being bored and fiddling with the building's controls, oh no.

It was a bummer the Committee decided he couldn't be trusted to keep his hands off of Providence. Whatever, he led the place! Kind of.

But —

He checks on sites, to " _determine the public's view of our organization_ ". Mostly an excuse to browse the web in slow times. He ignores the sites that call for his death. That was where the rest of his colourful vocabulary came from.

Rex knew he was stalling. That's why his expression turned serious, he told himself, _Just going into business mode._

_No "personal problems". No weakness._

"I… called you for a reason."

That tone got Six curious. At least, Rex thought it was curiosity. One of his eyebrows was raised and his head was tilted to the right, a silent permission for him to keep talking.

"Do you know how to check what areas are under lockdown?"

The eyebrow shot up further. "Lockdown," he said, less of a question and more of a statement. "Did you lock a wing by accident?"

The brief flash of indignation fizzled out as Rex realized, yeah, he would probably do that. Self-reflection was key to improving yourself, after all.

"Six, I am one-hundred percent serious here, Providence is under lockdown and—" his voice cracked. Just puberty, he told himself, it wasn't that he was genuinely frightened and tried to cover it up with bold words and smiles. "— I don't know _why_ , it could be a drill, it could be someone breaking into HQ, there could be a rampaging E.V.O. outside my room _right now_ —"

"Noted. Tap on the alarm icon with your thumb and hold it down."

Rex followed his instructions. A brief flash of light signalled the completion of a thumbprint scan, and in no time at all a cross-section of headquarters appeared in all its white, black, and grey glory, crimson staining the area where the lockdown signal originated.

Yeah. Like _that_ made more sense than, say, having a _button_ with _words_ that _clearly marked what it did_.

Who designed these things? Did the minimalist aesthetic _really_ take precedence over accessibility?

Whatever. Not like he could fire the Providence graphic designer anyways.

Rex gave silent thanks to Six's no-nonsense attitude, no lingering looks that screamed 'it's that easy, how did you not know, you aren't qualified for this'.

No spiteful glares, no feral growls, no unsaid promises to rip Rex apart.

Unlike _some others_ that Six hung out with, _for some reason_.

"Are you in any danger?" Six asked. Must have seen his expression sour. Rex looked up from the blue- well, whiteprint, and saw a fleeting expression of concern before it melted back into professional stoicism.

"What, you gonna pilot a jet from Hong Kong to here?"

Six coughed.

" _Seriously_?"

"Where is it?" Six changed the topic, but Rex let it slide. Time was of the essence. Probably. If it wasn't a prank. "The lockdown, I mean."

"According to this, right _here_ ," Rex said, zooming up on the red and jabbing it with his pointer finger. Not that Six could see what he was pointing at, but the ability to broadcast images that weren't him in his office was taken away after a notable cup ramen incident. And Bobo's 'takeover'. And who couldn't forget impromptu movie night? Point was, it was mostly a customary thing, a show to put on for Six. "The Petting Zoo and areas around it."

In a tone almost too soft for the mic to pick up on, Six muttered, "And the person in _charge_ of the Petting Zoo is in _Hong Kong_ half the planet away."

"C'mon, it's not your fault! You couldn't have planned for _this_." Rex made a vague sweeping motion over the screen, to indicate the lockdown. "There are _tons_ of doctors still at HQ. And even more agents. We've got it under control."

Six stayed silent, lips pressed in a thin line. Suspicion, Rex noticed, was oozing out of the small cracks in his stoic expression.

Did he think this was a setup?

For _what_?

The last remarkable E.V.O. that had been 'delivered' to Providence was Knight. He was tucked away in a corner of Providence, _not_ the Zoo, and was —

Rex brought up a window over the diagram of headquarters, a list of names and locations blurring past as he scrolled down to "K".

— yup, still in his room. With Agent Holiday visiting him, which was odd, but she still had tons of beef with Knight so maybe they decided to settle their scores with a fistfight.

…or Six could be doubting his command. His ability to lead. Maybe he was right, that Rex was a pawn with only the illusion of control to cling on to, but he was going to milk that illusion for all its worth!

He had to.

This was the only life left for him.

Rex's gaze was unfocused, screen blurring as he blinked away tears. Why was he so _emotional_ today? Was it puberty too? _Sure, that sounds right_ , he directed his thoughts elsewhere. To the lockdown. That would be the most useful.

Gathering his composure, bringing his shoulders back to get rid of his slouch, Rex wiped the forming tears with the back of his sleeve and concentrated on the image of Six.

"So…" He hoped he would pick up on the visual and auditory cues, anticipation displayed in the way his eyebrows creased and body leaned closer to the camera. He was _responsible_ now. Asking for instructions would be a show of irresponsibility, that he couldn't lead himself. Fishing for guidance was another thing entirely. _So, what now?_

"The security cameras may provide vital information. Check the Zoo and the areas around it." Six shoved his papers to the side in a semi-neat pile. The usual paperwork about what an E.V.O. looked like and what its abilities were, information that he probably gleaned from "studying it in its natural habitat" (which was a fancy way of saying "Six punched it in the face, probably"). "The Hole should be the first priority."

A wave of relief washed over Rex. The gears in his head spun, churning out plan after plan to deal with the lockdown. It was manageable now. Not an unknown.

"Thanks. For everything." Rex sloppily saluted and smiled. "Rex out."

"Just doing my job." Typical Six, but a hint of amusement was in his tone of voice. The salute was returned. "Six out."

The emergency call went dark, taking Six's guidance with it.

Rex clapped his hands together, taking in a deep breath as Six's name went dark. Probably heading out to the field now. Now that this was pretty much settled, Rex could kick back, relax, flip through the cameras, report any freaky happenings, uh —

Move onto the next problem?

Something was missing, Rex realized, dread at the back of his mind clawing to the forefront.

— oh, _shoot_.

He forgot.

He _completely_ repressed his panic over —

"SECURITY COMPROMISED" remained at the top of the screen, a persistent notification in size 12 bolded red — whatever, he could bring it down and —

11 alerts that someone broke into the network and did _something_ , covering their tracks like a phantom thief in the night.

11 alerts all centered around the Petting Zoo.

The cameras couldn't have been pulled up faster, cold shakes running through Rex's body.

 _Concentrate_ , he told himself. _Smile for the camera. No fear. Everything will be alright._

He hoped.

* * *

To his surprise, Knight didn't topple.

He expected another meeting with the tiled cell floor, not two hands grabbing him by the shoulders to keep him upright.

Two gloved hands belonging to someone he loathed to lean on.

Someone who had grabbed him too many times already.

Breath shaking, gold fading from his skin as he willed his body under control, he stood up and pulled away from Holiday's grasp. Vertigo hit him — the world swayed and spun as he staggered to create distance between the two of them.

He doesn't want to admit the weakness. He could barely hold down his disgust in private, it would be foolish to think he would be calm and relaxed in public. In front of a high-ranking Providence Agent that could report any of his mistakes, his shortcomings, to her superiors —

— preferably not _Rex,_ Knight would prefer Captain Calan over the jeering of a _prepubescent boy._

His back hit the wall. Cold permeated through the thin fabric of his top as he subconsciously flattened against the enclosure.

If he snarled, he would have been the spitting image of a wild, cornered animal.

The siren rang again. A high, shrill note, increasing in pitch before repeating the cycle over and over. Red, black, red, black, light streaking across first Holiday's sister then Holiday herself.

In the dim light, the night vision goggles sitting atop her head were a mirror of the spider's eyes.

Accusing, almost.

Knight couldn't _think_. Not with the alarm blaring. Not with the stares from Holiday, from her sister.

From the phantom stare of Six once he learned that Knight failed, he _failed_ , Knight wasn't as good as Six seemed to think _he_ was —

_Calm down. Control yourself._

_What do you need to do?_

A flash of anger, timed to the alarm reaching its fever pitch. He wanted to rip it apart. Watch it disassemble into barely recognizable chunks in his hands. Too loud.

_That would be a start._

… but he was… middle-aged, at least, and throwing a temper tantrum was beneath him. He was graceful. He was powerful. He was _Knight_.

Wall to palm, a thump echoing through the cell — ignoring the searing pain, Knight slammed his left hand against the tile and bent the alarm to his will.

Sparks flew.

Glass cracked.

Like a scream cut short by death, the siren fell silent.

The speaker unbuilt itself, controlled by nanites that were in turn controlled by Knight. The light itself stayed, continuing to bask the cell in its red light. Knight refused to think about how it made every stain look like blood.

"Are you done?"

Knight growled, anger rising up inside of him that he didn't know how to suppress. "Yes." He clipped his voice, refusing to let his illogical emotions leak through. His vision was turning the same shade of red as the alarm and everything blurred as his ears rang. "I'm. Perfectly. Fine."

Holiday's lips pressed together, as if holding back a quip of _'liar'_.

The yellow flickered —

 _There was something_ —

— before fading with his outburst.

He was panting. He was dizzy. He was still leaning on the wall with one hand, sweat rolling off of him, emptiness clawing at his flesh and a void where his guts should be.

The feeling could have been described as holding something down, but Knight knew there was nothing inside of him.

He hadn't eaten anything in hours. What was there to cough up? Bile?

Throwing up right on his shoes would be awful for all parties involved. Well, if the sister had enough mind to comprehend what was happening around her, otherwise it would be yet _another_ show of weakness and _another_ pile of laundry to throw into the chute.

_Beep beep._

Like flames roaring back to life from smouldering ashes, his frustration threatened to rise up to uncontrollable levels — _the alarm's broken, why is it sounding? Why is it still —_

He almost sent his nanites to shred it into unrecognisable pieces, but exhaustion mixed with a nagging familiarity stopped him.

Right next to Knight's outstretched hand, a screen flared to life.

"Hello? Any intruders in —" Rex stared, mouth hanging open, wide-eyed. "— whoa! Holiday?! Aren't you suppose to be like, on the other side of HQ?"

"Sir."

"Don't _sir_ me — what's going on in there? Why're the cages open?!" Of all the people to barge in, of course it was _Rex_. White light cut across the darkness of the Hole from the screen a pajama-clad Rex was displayed from, a sleepy expression on his face as he leaned in closer. The security camera swept through the cell, clearly controlled by the White Pawn. "Knight's there too?!"

Affronted, Knight spoke over Holiday, facing right at the screen. "This can easily be explained—"

"If Knight was the one that hacked Providence and locked the Petting Zoo, I swear on my white hair that—"

"I didn't!" Knight felt stupid shouting at the tiny screen in the wall but most of him didn't care. "And 'swear on my white hair'? _Really?_ "

"Just let me finish my sentence and—"

" _You_ cut me off _first_ , and you _still_ haven't let me explain myself. Or rather, let Holiday explain the situation."

"You just cut me off again! Right there! Holiday, c'mon." Rex's expression changed, softened as he turned his chair to Holiday. More than necessary, Knight cringed, as the chair wheels squeaked when Rex rolled half off the screen. "If he's causing you trouble he's gonna get smashed with the ol' exo-arm."

"He's not. I brought him here. Had an eye on him ever since," Holiday snapped, an agitated edge to her voice. 'End the useless arguing quickly', her pointed expression said it all.

Rex opened his mouth, but apparently words had failed him since he closed it soon afterwards. The tenseness in his muscles eroded away and he flopped back into the plush office chair and spun it around. "Fine, whatever. You two go frolic with Holi's sis and I'll be off tracking down whoever thought it was a _great_ idea to open all the cages in there."

No proper sign-off like 'Rex, out' as the screen fizzled to black, but then again, the Director of Providence was a pre-teen. Unprofessionalism at its finest.

An unknown, possible hostile, was behind this mess. Shit. Knight ground his teeth together, a remnant of his previous fury, the desperation to leave and eat building. It wasn't panic, he told himself, it was self-preservation. Survival instinct.

Inhale. Exhale. The cage's door was closed. Agent Holiday was next to him. If worst came to worst, he could always leap at the assailant and rip out their nanites so there would be nothing but dust left.

But that was disgusting (dust in his boots. Dust on his clothes. Dust in his _hair_ ) and frankly, he didn't want an enemy born from fear in Providence.

Failed step one, then, Knight glanced at Holiday, her finger ghosting the trigger on her tranquilizer gun. Maybe she was thinking of letting her sister _nap_ for a bit, or shooting anyone that planned to attack them in their little _fort_ , but Knight trusted her as far as he could throw her.

Which, if he thought about it, was a decent distance even without his builds. Holiday didn't look heavy. Less weight without her equipment.

Whatever.

Right now they had to work together, trust or nothing.

But one thing was bothering Knight —

"You told _Rex_?"

"I've known you for less than a month. Rex is practically my—" Holiday's grip on her tranq tightened and Knight raised an eyebrow, studying her movements. Ready to dodge a shot, automatically. "Nevermind."

Curiosity clawed at his thoughts, tempting him with blunt questions that would shatter what little mutual respect they had for each other.

_What do you mean?_

_Like a son? Or…_

_Do you see Rex as a replacement for your sister?_

He stayed quiet. Just like the broken siren. Just like the spider E.V.O, throat long hoarse from screaming (the agent's sister, he reminds himself, a concentrated nanite source, another part of him says).

An involuntary twitch. Hand clenching, nanites crying out, faint electricity against his skin that made him flinch —

— he ignored the little _look_ that Agent Holiday gave him. He didn't want any disgust — it had to be disgust on her face — when there were other things in the room to be disgusted at.

He wanted food.

Holiday wouldn't oppose killing and eating one of the animal E.V.O , right?

He glanced at her, a tiny movement of his head, but she saw it anyway. Her head snapped up. Their eyes met and without a minute passing he decided he was better off not taking any risks. Holiday looked busy, in her own mind, maybe processing information that she wanted to deny; Knight didn't want to hit the wasp's nest with a stick.

So he stayed put, the background noise a mix of Providence's mechanical hum and the occasional rasp by the spider E.V.O.

If there was one word to describe every fiber of his being, it would be 'uncomfortable'.

His legs were stiff but he couldn't sit down. The ground was dirty from their boots and her sister's skittering — he wasn't going to wallow in dirt just to have a few creature comforts. A shiver went up his spine as his eyes zoned in on a particular clump, wet from the swamp and smeared lightly over the tiles.

Holiday didn't seem to mind it, sitting down next to her sister, shushing and patting her on the head. Calming motions, Knight presumed. He made some of his own, scraping the dirt off one shoe with the other and kicking it far away from him.

"Will you stop that?"

"Stop what?" Knight continued cleaning his immediate area to the best of his ability. Still too dirty. Impure. Frustrating.

"The kicking," she said, tone flat. She didn't want to argue. Knight wasn't going to budge. "It's bothering her."

" _The dirt_ is bothering _me_."

Holiday snorted, continuing to smooth her sister's wild hair, shooting him glares to quiet down every so often.

If Knight had to stay here for the rest of the day, cramped in one room with only clipped conversations and the hissing of a mutilated E.V.O. to keep him company, he was going to _break_.

Now that he thought about the hissing, that was the only thing his mind could focus on. The volume stayed the same — if anything, it was _louder_. The wet noises of spit built up and flung. Splashing against the ground. Had some dried near him?

Perhaps — and Knight loathed to admit that he was _following orders_ — Holiday was onto something.

He stopped in his tracks. The tiles had streaks of their original colour showing through the layer of grime whose origins he didn't want to think about. His boots were in a similar shape; an almost unrecognizable shade, a disgrace to the colour white everywhere. Knight would have gotten them in a colour that would make dirt easy to ignore, but there weren't many options when picking from the Providence catalogue.

'Picking', as if he had any say in what clothes they deemed fit to throw on top of his bed. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He paced around, legs desperate to start running, to carry him far away from the discomfort that settled in his skin. His muscles felt too tight. Ready to spring at any moment.

"How long will it take?" Knight asked, holding back on any anger that may have bubbled up to the surface. He'd seen Providence agents out on the field, through glimpses on screens or past a door. Sometimes they even let him sit in the briefing or war room when missions became complicated and they were forced to inform him. One thing was for sure though — as a whole, they looked as incompetent as their leader. Hopefully they would reach them without tripping over their boots.

"Be patient."

This _was_ him being patient. His expression soured — from the amount of scowling he had done since he woke up, he expected to see 10 more wrinkles on his face.

"Then how about: status report." He wasn't yelling or shaking anymore, which was a plus. Instead he was narrowing his eyes, stance wide and intimidating, hands clenched into fists.

Holiday didn't grace him with her full attention, still staying near her sister — _unfair_. They were both E.V.O but at least Knight was better companionship. He could talk. That was more than some people in the room, apparently, as the silence stretched on.

"You remind me of Rex. Somewhat," she replied, gaze distant. It took Knight by surprise; one, she answered later than the acceptable answering period (which would be around 10 seconds, more if she was thinking hard), and two, _her answer had nothing to do with what they were talking about_.

"Isn't he _13_?"

"I said somewhat."

No elaboration, huh. Knight huffed and returned to pacing and staring at the grimy ground, disgust shown in his drawn-up lip. He attempted to keep his footfalls light (or rather, as light as they could be coming from someone of his build with no stealth training. That he could remember) as he raked over the conversation again.

What, did she think Knight was unworthy of saying commands like _Rex_ was? That Rex could take in a status report and spit out a plan better than he could? Poison dripped in his mind, twisting words and meaning into loathing. Was he not good enough for her? Did he need to lick her boots and beg for any sort of explanation? For any sort of extended human contact? At this rate he might as well just lock himself up in another cage, Holiday seemed to get along just fine with that _sister_ of hers —

 _God_ , and she had the audacity to just have a cryptic look in her eye and faintly smile like it was _high praise_ to be compared to Rex —

It was all turning into loathing. He knew the spiral, familiar as the broom closet they called his room, and he hated it, he hated it, _he hated it, he **hated** it,_

He had stopped. Stopped pacing, stopped controlling his breathing, stopped noticing his surroundings, stopped thinking rationally. The feeling was not unlike drowning, if the water was boiling hot and the depths were a blinding, blinding white.

Dragged down by a chain attached to the collar that was suffocating him.

… Maybe he'd leave the poetry to Six.

So many outbursts today, _overwhelming_. He wanted to collapse into a heap, push away his hunger and his worries to the next day and instead let sleep take over. _Focus_ , Knight snapped at himself, standing up straighter. He was professional. He wouldn't let something like an empty stomach stop him. Like the floodgates had opened, his irritation trickled out as he forced himself into the present.

It left a void that he wasn't quite sure how to fill.

Despite his efforts to keeping his stance menacing, broad shoulders back and feet apart, he felt exposed and _small_. Like a cat fluffing itself up to seem larger than it was when faced with a horrifically stronger enemy. A hand rubbed his arm — _his_ hand, soothing, eyes skittering around but not at Holiday or her sister. Denying that the motion was copied right out of Holiday, refusing that it was working.

The nails dug into his skin. It would be painfully easy to dig in deeper, to draw blood, to let his nanites fix it up later in a blink of his eye, but drawing the attention of every carnivorous or omnivorous E.V.O. was counter-productive, to say the least.

He settled with goosebumps ( _From the cold_ , he repeated to himself. _Definitely from the cold_ ) and filed away the thought that he should ask for warmer clothing for later.

Watched. He was being scrutinized by the Agent, a phantom burning sensation that he couldn't shake off. What a disaster; how many wild swings had he had today? How uncooperative was he? How many mistakes would Holiday report back? The cold wasn't physical anymore, a deep fear that he tried to stomp out clawing at his mind. Providence wouldn't put him down. They could degrade him but they wouldn't put him down.

He'd take them down with him.

Holiday stood up. Or rather, Knight heard her stood up, combat suit shifting and the sounds of a placid E.V.O. fading into the normal grunts (which sounded too human) and hisses (better). It was followed by the sounds of boots on tile, a mimic of the powerful clack-clacks that high heels might have produced without the fuss of high-heels. Closer, _behind him_ —

Knight wanted to keep his distance but running while they were trapped in the cell wasn't an option. When the sounds of Holiday approaching finally stopped and the feeling of someone staring right at his neck intensified to the point where he swore it was physical pain, he did the only thing he could do in his position.

He flinched.

Rather, he made himself a little smaller, head down and shoulders up, hunching over, clearly expecting — he wasn't sure _what_ , but his mind was screaming at him to brace — and while his little jump may have looked like flinching he sure as hell wasn't calling it that.

"...Knight?"

"Reporting."

He didn't turn to her. He wouldn't allow it, wouldn't allow her to notice how his carefully groomed air of power was faltering. She would tear him apart. Knight wasn't family, she wouldn't even feel bad about it this time.

Knight was easy pickings.

"Are you…" Hungry? Tired? A complete idiot? Whatever the last part of the sentence was, it was taking her an awfully long amount of time to finish. Easy disarming tactic, to keep the other on their toes by never allowing them to predict what was coming next. "Okay?"

… what?

He twisted his torso so that Holiday appeared on the side of his vision. Knight was expecting her to be smiling, a wicked and cruel smile that would mock him, but instead…

Genuine concern?

Oh.

 _Oh_.

She was a _bleeding heart_.

She was a top Providence Agent and _she felt sympathy for him_.

With the silent implication that she looked _down_ on him. Just as suspected.

Ignoring that, how was he supposed to answer that question? The correct reply was 'yes, perfectly fine', he was sure of it. Like he was reading his lines from a script. Nothing was wrong. He was happy. At the same time, Holiday might refuse 'yes' as an answer given his earlier fits.

Mouth open, mouth closed, eyes darting between staring at Holiday and trying to avoid her. What —

The cell door rang.

Not another alarm, that was a relief, but more like the sound when a hammer hits a gong; reverberating through the room, shaking his bones, body kicking into overdrive as it sensed _danger_.

Someone was knocking at the door, and it wasn't a Providence agent.

And selfishly, Knight was glad he didn't have to give an answer.

He wasn't sure who moved first; Holiday leaping away from the vault entrance, hands shooting for her weapons, him brushing his hand over the control panel to scream 'stay closed, stay closed, _stay closed_ ' at the nanites until they complied, or the spider E.V.O. screaming. In surprise, pain, or both.

"What was that," Knight said, more demanding than questioning, mind whirling in a display of instinct; he, the one in control of his body and therefore his base needs, was holding back from complete panic like a soldier holding back an advance.

Holiday said nothing, pulling out her tranquilizer and loading bullet after bullet in, her steely gaze locked onto the cage entrance. The place was built to be featureless, nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. There was no cover.

Well, there _was_ — her sister, near the back of the room, unable to move and unable to fight. Holiday had positioned herself halfway between her and the vault door instead of hiding behind her mass. Knight was awed by her determination to protect her family and from how tactically _idiotic_ that move was.

He shuffled back, still facing the door, following Holiday's lead. He couldn't do anything else with the collar on him. Just reaffirming that the entry was working and running. Step by step, he backed up behind Holiday and was about to head behind her sister when a jab to the stomach knocked the air from him.

"We're securing this room." Did she just _elbow_ him? Her arms quickly went back to her original, ready-to-shoot stance. Her head didn't move to glare at him, but the force of her voice kept him grounded. " _We_."

"Am I the bait, then?" He shot back, not moving farther back but simultaneously not moving forwards to her position. What was he going to do, if he wasn't a distraction? Punch whatever was approaching in the eye? "You know I'm dead weight with _this_ on."

The collar.

"Here," one of her hands darted from the tranquilizer to a pocket, taking out a knife. "Catch."

She flicked it behind her.

Knight sidestepped the blade as it clattered and slid uselessly to the floor. A hiss of frustration escaped her lips. "You were supposed to _catch_."

"You're unofficially in charge of me." Take the hint, _goddamnit_. "Unofficially in charge of the collar."

Still as a statue. She didn't move, he didn't move, nothing except their breathing, controlled with brief shakes.

Another crash against the wall cracked the facade; he heard her sharp intake of breath, mirrored by his own involuntary exhale.

Whatever it was, it knew they were in there and it wasn't stopping. Time was running out.

"Either we fight it under-equipped in a suicide mission, we run when it's distracted from eating your sister, or you take off the collar. Your pick, _Agent Holiday_."

Another silent pause, their breathing more ragged. The spider E.V.O. had decided to shut up — smart, if it weren't for Holiday he'd be half-tempted to keep her quiet himself.

"We're staying."

Pause.

The light blurred across his vision.

No. No _way_. Was Holiday planning to fight? Wait it out and pray that it wasn't going to tear into the cell?

Again, the cell rumbled. Again, the room was thrown into a brief darkness, the glint of red piercing through the veil. _Again_ , Knight was trapped and at the mercy of whatever was beyond his cage.

Again, he was exhausted.

"I —"

Another crash. The door shook.

"What are you waiting for?!" Holiday's tone took on an edge of irritation as she dropped her stance, looking at him with impatience in her eyes.

"You're really going to—"

" _Yes_ , get over here and sit down."

A shiver of disgust ran through him, goosebumps forming on his skin. Dirt. Spit. Blood. God knows what else. This was hardly the time for revulsion; swallowing thickly, he ran over, closed his eyes, and sat knees bunched against his chest. Curled up small.

Holiday lowered herself behind him. From the noises — fabric shuffling and a small thud — she sat with her knees to the ground, leaning towards his back.

Knight ignored it. How he was wallowing in filth, how open and exposed he was, how _easy_ it would be —

_A dagger in her hand, small but still long enough to slip through his ribs and —_

_His neck, protected only by the collar, not nearly enough to stop —_

"By the way, the resulting shock if I fail to take this off properly will probably kill you."

How reassuring. He had gathered as much from his first attempt.

The gloves she wore were cold, rough, an unnatural prickling at his skin as she felt the collar. It was sturdy. Warmed from Knight's body heat. Casting another red glow from the light at the front signalling it was active that he did his best to not think about day after day.

(At night, though, it was his only company.)

"There should be a maintenance panel around here." Holiday tapped it. Knight grunted in response. "Look, I've taken off a collar manually before, you should be fine."

The phrase 'margin of error' echoed in his mind. He didn't relay his thoughts.

The next few minutes were spent in an uneasy silence only interrupted by the banging on the door. Knight couldn't see behind him for obvious reasons ( _hmm. Camera build? Only useful for expanding my vision, they can't be separated after all…_ ) and could only rely on his sense of touch. Every time Holiday's gloves brushed against his bare neck, he suppressed the urge to flinch and lean away, but at the same time —

It was weird, but it felt a little nice. Being handled gently. Rather, the _collar_ being handled gently and him as an afterthought. If he closed his eyes and drifted off from the situation, it was almost like someone he trusted to watch his back was caring for him.

But that wasn't realistic.

So instead, his hands curled into fists with nails that dug into his palms as he sought to expel the agitated energy.

The clattering of metal brought him back, a sharp intake followed by the almost irresistible urge to turn around. From the noise, meek, it was small. Not small enough that the possibility of it being a weapon was erased.

"That was the maintenance panel."

Like she read his mind. Dangerous, if left unattended — was he predictable enough that she could counter any of his moves in a fight?

The other explanation was terrifying. That he wasn't getting predictable, that she knew him deeply in the brief time that they knew each other. His behaviour, his personality, his _fears_. Paranoia threaded his thoughts, sweat rolling from his forehead.

The walls were too close, the air stifling— he was going to choke. He was trapped. He knew, he had known since they had stepped in, that they were cornered in the cell but it hadn't set into his bones, hadn't stopped his breath short in the chaos.

Could Holiday see him, erratic motions and wild breathing? Pupils dilating not only to let in light in the dark, but in a growing panic?

"So," Holiday began, a welcome distraction from his thoughts, which were spinning in circles blindly. Her hands darted across the collar now, quicker, presumably feeding in code and prodding the wires. "Why did you attack Rex?"

Maybe not so welcome.

"Is this an interrogation?"

"It's a courtesy. I told you about _her_."

Ah. Knight wasn't expecting _that_ to bite him in the ass so soon.

"It's because…" He didn't know where to begin, Providence, trampling over his kind's lives? Wresting control away from deserving E.V.O in the name of justice? Fighting a losing battle against the evolution that had gripped mankind?

 _Well, not losing anymore_ , Knight's thoughts turned bitter. He's the _cure_ , which was ironic given how much venom was coursing through his thoughts.

"Rex is the poster boy of Providence." A more literal interpretation, given his mottled mug was pasted on every wall and every pole in Providence-infested areas. "The _figurehead_. Chop off the head…"

"And nothing would happen. His position is more decorative than functional. At least, for now."

Right. Like the kid was going to grow up a fine leader instead of a sheltered wreck.

"You missed the fact that it would be a huge morale boost for every E.V.O. not wanting to be killed or contained by your _employers_. A huge morale blow to _you_."

Holiday's fingers stiffened, collar stilling to rest on Knight's neck. The stillness, the silence, unnerved him — had he overstepped?

"It's nothing personal." Knight shrugged, fingers idly tapping his thigh. Not entirely true. He's sure he hates him _now_ , but back then Knight was focused on his position, not his bratty personality. "He is, tactically speaking, a prime target.

"You speak as if this is a war."

"Isn't it?"

No answer. She had resumed working on the collar, beyond his sight.

"I _do_ feel a bit bad about Noah, though. Paying him to betray Rex like that," Knight added a small laugh at the end, brought on by his nerves. It was embarrassing, admitting that; he was superior and above those pretty notions. He couldn't see Holiday's expression, which was worse in his eyes — Distaste? Disinterest? Looking _down_ at him? He tried to cover it up, "Took all the money I saved for a week, and I didn't even get what I wanted."

Her hands had stopped, leaving a void where warmth once was.

"Noah? As in, the blonde kid that Rex is friends with?"

" _'Is'_?" Knight straightened and turned his head to look at her disbelievingly; he already paid him. Was he expecting another paycheck anytime soon? No — three weeks had passed. He must be desperate. "He's still around?"

Holiday's expression went dark. Red light danced across her face as the alarm light rotated, adding another layer of unease. Her hand drifted to the tranq on her hip. "Not for long."

Another dent appeared on the door. Holiday started, hands once again on the collar around Knight; he had to stop himself from shaking or flinching, lest the collar activate on accident.

He squeezed his eyes shut — not that it helped, the banging against the vault door rang in his ears as a constant reminder that they had little time left. Like a clock ticking down.

"Is it almost off?"

"Wait."

He couldn't. Not anymore. The crashes were getting more frequent, louder, door groaning under the weight of _something_ slamming into it over and over —

In two neat chunks, the collar fell to the floor.

Knight stood, shaking off Holiday, raised one foot, and stomped.

Hard.

The crunch was satisfying.

 _Power_.

Coursing through his veins like lava — he had almost forgotten what it was like to be free. A smile, perhaps the first one that had graced his lips that day, spread across his face. Wide, teeth shown, eyes alight with pure _joy_ —

With a brief cacophony of metal on metal, a flash of grey and gold, his hands returned to their true form. Simple but functional. Brilliantly white, sparking with electricity and controlled enthusiasm.

It was like he was unshackled; he was energized, limbs lighter than before despite the two mechanical fists that _were_ his lower arms and hands, untamed energy filling him up just waiting to be used up.

It didn't have to wait for long.

Metal bent underneath him. In a leap, he had travelled to the other end of the cell and slammed into the door. He barely felt it, it was like he was merely crumpling paper, the vault door buckling and snapping as two forces hit it.

One E.V.O. and the other, something _unstoppable_.

The other E.V.O. — monstrous, almost alligator in appearance, barely stood a chance. If it wasn't reinforced steel piercing its hide, if it wasn't the weight of a meter of metal slamming into it —

Just like paper.

Its mouth, lined with too many teeth to be a product of nature, hung open and useless as red splattered across the floor. Across the walls. Across Knight.

Revulsion shot through Knight before being replaced with triumph, the thrill of a kill. This was his _element_. Showing off his strength, existing and loving it. Spitting in the face of people who'd rather see him locked up or dead.

The corpse, what was left of it, disintegrated in his hands. Nanites flooding in. He wanted more. He _needed_ more.

"Knight!"

Oh, right, her. He turned his head, grin etched on his face like it was there permanently.

Was that a bit of _fear_ in her eyes?

His mood fell. Disappointment. She wasn't impressed?

"We still need to stay here, remember?"

Right, her sister.

"I can reinforce it." Knight motioned at the scrap heap around him. "Block up the entrance. You'll both be safe."

Holiday scrutinized him. Mostly his arms. The night vision goggles hid her eyes, her expression, but her posture said everything.

_Could I stop you?_

The answer, of course, was no.

"To open the Petting Zoo doors in a lockdown situation, there needs to be two elements," Holiday said, slowly as she stood up and brushed off her suit, "Someone opening from the inside and someone opening from the outside."

"All the more reason for me to go out there. We're not going to get rescued if they can't reach us."

"Either that, or someone high up in the command chain opens the door. That's Rex, in our case."

Knight groaned, letting his arms drop in an almost childish gesture. Rex was in charge of whether or not their rescue could reach them in time.

"Give him some credit. He's learning."

"I'll give him credit when he earns it."

End of conversation. Forever, Knight hoped. Everyone had to claw their way up the food chain, except for Rex, it seemed, who landed a cushy desk job position from someone else's procedure and someone else's work on nanites.

Not that a desk job, wearing fancy suits and sitting around all day was anywhere near appearing. Knight would take being on the battlefield over that boring job any day.

Hissing from behind him. Not a monster, but instead the door to The Hole opening.

Footsteps echoed in corridor as a beam of light cut through the dark, swinging around. Knight spun on one foot in an instant, hands ready to punch whatever was going to attack them into a pulp —

Which was Doctor Fell, carrying a flashlight in one hand and a comically out-of-place pair of scissors held like a weapon in the other. "Knight? Are you there?"

"Doctor Fell, how —"

"Running some late night tests. Unfortunately, the alarm sounded before I planned to leave."

"You're not authorized for that." Holiday pushed forward, through the rubble and the viscera, to face him with suspicion. The tranquilizer gun was out again, and Fell eyed it with a detached interest.

"I am when Rex tells me I am."

That piqued her interest, head tilting to the side as she dropped to a less aggressive stance. Maybe it piqued her suspicion. "What _else_ did he tell you?"

"Captain Calan and a few other agents are to reach _you_ , Agent Holiday," Doctor Fell turned his attention onto Knight, an uncomfortable feeling welling inside of him. "And I am to bring Knight out."

"Why aren't they with you?" It was suspicion, for sure. "You should have met with them first. You're a non-combatant."

"I was going to, until Knight… disposed of the E.V.O. that blocked my path to him. He will be my guard."

"But—"

"Do you want to live or not?"

All eyes on Knight as the focus shifted. At first, he didn't realize that the last question was pointed at him, as their argument had become heated — suddenly thrust into the spotlight, his plan was nonexistent.

A part of Knight wanted to stay behind with Holiday; her company wasn't the best, but she didn't give him the creeps like Doctor Fell did. He couldn't pinpoint why. His voice oozing with contempt and disdain, maybe.

At the same time, he needed to get out of there and Holiday was perfectly fine on her own.

Fell seemed to take his silence as a 'yes', motioning for Knight to follow him.

He did.

Knight was tempted to shoot an apologetic look back, instead turning to look at Holiday, her face unreadable. The Hole was cleared out by then. It was just a matter of Knight locking the door behind him with an arm that he changed into its human appearance.

Before long, Knight had shifted his other arm too, metal pieces falling off of him onto the soil. They were strong, but loud with their whirring and clanking as they hit the trees and smacked the bushes in the Zoo.

Nothing attacked them, either by luck or by the more prey-like E.V.O being scared off by a predator in the area. He was disappointed; a good fight was sure to keep his excitement up and thoughts of hunger down.

His hacking abilities unfortunately could only be used by human limbs, too. That was a pitfall he could overcome later. Now, it was central to getting them out of there, forcing the door to open when ordinarily they wouldn't budge.

Fell took off into a sprint the moment the door closed behind them, bars sliding back into place. At least, Knight assumed he did, the quick pitter-patter of feet and the conspicuous absence of the doctor when he spun around.

Growling, Knight followed the sound; it wasn't hard, not like Doctor Fell was trying to be stealthy, but it was annoying. Seeing the tail of his labcoat disappear down his corner before turning it and finding Fell was already gone.

He had a surprising amount of energy in him, given his position as head scientist. Knight assumed he did nothing but write reports all day.

Fell was getting slower though, Knight could feel it — a glimpse of more of him in the dark, the light from his flashlight brighter in the white corridors. The darkness didn't suit Providence, all jagged shadows and dim screens when Providence clearly bathed in white.

Soon, Fell had stopped right before a door.

Another flash of irritation. At Fell and at himself for not memorizing the route they took, twists and turns in the halls of Providence that all looked the same.

"What was _that_?" Knight caught his breath, legs burning from the run.

"I needed to know that you wouldn't run."

"So instead you ran."

"You took chase, didn't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nevermind. In here." Fell pressed a button near the door and entered a code.

Dimly lit, the solitary light in the middle over an operating table that casted sharp, unnatural shadows, a pseudo-lab stood before Knight when the door opened. It looked hastily thrown together, all equipment strewn about unordered and wires snaking across the tile to cameras.

Too hasty for Providence. Despite their leader seeming otherwise, they were about plans and order; something Knight could grudgingly respect them for.

...Was this place even legal?

He turned —

Sharp pain on his shoulder. An expressionless face. A tranquilizer gun pointed at him, hidden until now, and he couldn't help but think of Agent Holiday. He couldn't trust her. He couldn't trust…

Six. There to talk, to reminiscence, even if Knight wasn't whole. Missing. Meandering. What was happening to him?

He toppled, a low exhale escaping his lips as his limbs dragged him down, down, with nobody to catch him this time, onto the tile with heavy eyelids and a muddled mind.

* * *

Two blurred copies of the world swam as his eyes refused to focus, dark greys with bright whites cutting through the dark around him. Groaning, he raked his mind for information. _Where… Providence?_

He rolled over on whatever he was lying on —

He couldn't. Locked into spread-eagle position, his head lolled to the side uselessly. Cold bit at his skin where it met the table he was strapped to, a contrast against his flushed face. _That_ got his focus back, heart rate up, and muscles tensing.

Or at least, most of it. His limbs were numb. A reflection of his own mind, which was grasped at thoughts to keep himself afloat.

"You're supposed to be sedated."

_Doctor Fell?_

Something brushed his sandy blonde hair aside, sending a shiver of fear running down his spine. The touch lingered on his forehead. Like needles digging in.

A gloved hand — _disgusting, disgusting, there was something slick on it and he smelled copper_ — Fell's gloved hand, cupped his chin and jerked him up. Brown to green, his eyes to Knight's, one filled with triumph and the other…

He bared his fangs, a growl building in his throat.

Which cut off as his head slammed onto the observation table.

"No need to be _testy_ ," Fell spoke, voice light. Fingers were around his throat now, a collar pressing down on the sides — pounding, blood pounding as he gasped at the sudden pressure. He couldn't — _he couldn't_ —

 _Breathe_. The fingers relented, dragging roughly across his skin in a warning. Knight answered with coughs as his lungs drew in air. Desperate. Through the haze, pain spiked in his chest and his head throbbed.

"Your body destroys nanites at an incredible rate." Fell walked around him, ignoring his heaves, a vulture to dying prey. "If Providence can take that power, wield it _correctly_ , we could program human bodies to consume the nanites before they consume _us_."

Knight didn't give him a satisfaction of an answer, instead glaring at him with all the fury he could muster. Which should have been a lot, dissatisfaction and anger at the chaotic state of the world churning within him, but as he tested the clamps holding his limbs and head down a pit of uncertainty opened up at his core.

They wouldn't budge. The cold metal dug into his skin, pain flaring as he pushed again to no avail.

"So many variables; what's the maximum rate of consumption? What side-effects may occur? Where do the nanites go once used?" Circling closer now, going in for the kill. The light shining down on him felt like the desert sun, scorching his pale skin. "What happens when you starve?"

He was already so, _so_ hungry.

Imagining it intensifying _hurt_.

It — it hurt, sparks across his nonreactive, drugged body, trapping his form. Wheezing. From across his body, not just his uneven intakes. Like embers being stomped out before they could blaze anew, brief metal patches ghosted across his skin before sinking back in.

He tried to keep control over his spasming limbs, his shaking form, his builds half-forming and deconstruction.

With a growing sense of horror, he wasn't sure he could.

"The mechanical E.V.O—" Fell's eyes lit up, half realization and half wild wonder. "It was _you_ , wasn't it? I was content with just having you, the cure, but _you_ , that E.V.O..."

_What?_

"Why is it such a surprise that I'm biomechanical?!" Knight's fear funnelled into anger mixed with confusion, nails digging into the palm of his hand as he pulled against the restraints. "You've seen me _build_ before!"

"No, no, not _this_ form. Not you." Fell's hands swept across his body. His undefended, unfortunately human body. "The huge biomechanical E.V.O. that destroyed a Providence fleet and levelled a city. The specimen that Holiday reported as dead. You blew up and became… _humanoid._ Why?"

"I would have _preferred_ if _this_ didn't happen either, but I don't remember why!"

Fell's eyes narrowed. Distrust hung in the air, almost palpable.

"It doesn't matter what you remember. What matters are the scientific revelations that your body holds."

His skin crawled. Not completely because of the grey underbuild appearing and disappearing.

Metal sliding on metal; from his position, he couldn't turn his head to see what Fell was doing. Control was slipping from his fingers like sand.

"You should be happy. You're going to be the evology breakthrough everyone has been waiting for." Fell was grinning, light glinting off of his glasses as he moved around Knight. His arms waved around, wild and dramatic — it didn't take long for Knight's eyes to zero in on the shining blade that was his scalpel. Fell, meanwhile, wasn't looking at _him_ , the person. He was looking at _it_ , the nanite-infused _thing_ that was nothing near human. "You're going to be so _useful_."

A pang went through Knight's heart before he could stop it — _useful_ , that word resonated within him, almost echoing in the hollow feeling in his gut. He wanted to be useful. To be the cure that Holiday — no, the _world_ needed. He was practically _made_ for —

— **what**?

Under no circumstance did he want to be dissected and _die_ by the hands of a half-rate scientist.

Heat built at his core. He could feel _it_ again — rage, untamed, vision blurring and lips curling up in a snarl as his breath became quicker and thrashing more forceful.

Knight wasn't their _tool_. Knight wasn't their _pet E.V.O_. Knight _was_ going to rip them apart until they _bled_ and _begged_ and _kneeled_ in front of him, treated exactly how he should be.

Fell flinched. Good. Knight's eyes were wide and filled to the brim with unbridled anger, growls replacing words and metal desperately trying to replace flesh. Gold flashed on his skin, a warning.

It wasn't panic. It was survival instinct on overdrive.

The air — no, the _nanites_ around him — felt hot, suffocating, congested, all of them drunkenly swirling from his half-formed commands. Attack, _attack_ , _**attack**_.

Kill, _kill, **kill**._

Screaming, visceral and guttural, pained as much as it was angry. No growling anymore, just the howling vocalisations as he pulled against his restraints; the metal dug into his skin and drew blood. He didn't notice or care.

Blurred, drugged vision sharpened to clarity focused to a sword point — a sword pointed to nobody in particular, lashing out wildly, caring for nothing but the death of its enemies.

The death of one person, figure red and filled with nanites, whose smug look fell into one of disbelief.

As wires jutted out of his skin and plates built from his flesh, amalgamating human and machine, that expression changed further to fear.

He could _feel_ it, almost taste the blood-like iron — metal bending from _his_ strength, _his_ nanites, the horror in the air from _what he was_ and _him_ alone — he was in control. _**He** was in control._

**And he won't be anyone's prisoner anymore.**

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully I actually get off my lazy ass and finish it


End file.
